


Look What You Made Me Do

by JenSpinner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood and Torture, Castiel is a psychopath, Character Death, Come Marking, Dark Character, Death, Drinks, Drugs, Edging, Emotional Manipulation, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mind Games, Punishment, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Threats of Violence, murderer Castiel, non-con, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20497262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenSpinner/pseuds/JenSpinner
Summary: This was originally going to be a piece in The Ultimate Guide To Destiel Sex, but I thought because of it's darker themes that it would be better to put it as a stand-alone piece. That way it could be tagged properly and I'd avoid triggering anyone.I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading x x x





	1. Chapter 1

"Let go, Dean" instructed Castiel, in that low gravelly voice that all of three hours ago had been enough to make Dean turn and notice him at a crowded bar. 

"Fuck you!" 

"Ah-ah. We already played that game... Now, you can let go... Or I will have to make you let go." he warned. 

"I'm fucked either way, right?" snapped Dean, "Not going to make this any easier for you." 

"I told you, I told you in the bar that if you came home with me... you'd live to regret it." said Castiel sternly, "I was completely honest."

"Bullshit! You never said anything about fucking tying me up and keeping me here." 

Castiel's eyes darkened as he looked down at Dean who was still clinging on to the door handle, with great difficulty as his wrists were duct-taped together. Holding on as though for his life... Funny that the one time he doesn't plan on killing his 'hook-up' they should act like this. 

"You are mine now, Dean." said Castiel "You aren’t disposable, like the others...” 

*** 

Earlier that night

Those green eyes. Fuck. They were criminal. You could blow up an entire country and blame it on those eyes... He'd do anything to be able to swim in those sparkling green pools. He'd slaughter an entire family, he'd burn buildings to the ground, he'd bring world leaders to their knees... Just for one night with this man... But then no, one night would never be enough. Nowhere near enough. Castiel wanted this man, not to kill, not to butcher, he didn't want to bathe in his blood... He wanted to keep him... to love. To hold him and have him and touch him and fuck him... for the rest of his life. He smirks as he thinks, ‘for as long as we both shall live’. 

So he was completely fucked, when green eyes smiled at him, a flirty obvious smile, the hint of a wink. The man slides himself on to the barstool next to Castiel and as he inhales through his nose, Castiel catches a whiff of minty body wash. Fresh meat, minty fresh. ‘How apt’ Castiel thinks to himself. 

"Hey. I'm Dean," said Dean, nodding toward the bar, "Buy you a drink?" 

"Sorry, you are not my type," said Castiel bluntly, surprising himself. 

Dean scoffed, with an eyebrow-raising dangerously close to disappearing from his forehead, "Young, attractive and available isn't your type?" 

"I like modest men," smiled Castiel - not true. He likes the ‘alpha’ males, the ones who thought they’d be fucking him. The ones who thought he was a pushover. How he loved the look of surprise on their faces when he got going on them. None of them ever saw it coming.

Dean held up his hands, "Look I am not trying to sound like a dick, but I'm twenty-four, I know what I look like and it ain't half bad and I have been single for over a year... But hey man... Your loss." He turns and starts walking away and although that had been Castiel's plan... To spare this beautiful creature from... well, himself, now seeing this man moving away he knew he couldn't allow him to escape, something primal and possessive had sparked to life inside him and he just knew he needed Dean. He had to have him.

"Wait." he heard himself say softly, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on Dean's arm, "Forgive me... What I should have said, was that you would live to regret it if you came home with me tonight." he shot Dean a flirty smile.

Dean half frowned before smirking, "So, I have caught myself a man of mystery? Interesting."

"Or have I caught you?" Purred Castiel in his husky low tone, "How about that drink Dean?"

"Sure, er?" Dean looked at him expectantly. 

"James," said Castiel shaking Dean's hand. In Castiel’s mind, this… touching Dean. Was his claim. His scent was on Dean now, he’d marked him. He’d claimed him, his eyes flick down to their joined hands for a moment before he releases Dean from his grip.

Castiel bought Dean a whiskey and they talked for a while about normal things, Dean's life. Castiel worked out very quickly that Dean had a younger brother he was close to... Someone who would likely notice if Dean went missing... Someone, he'd likely have to 'deal' with, if as he planned... he kept Dean. He found out that Dean hated his job, he worked answering phones for some big company and apparently people came and went there frequently, Castiel was pleased with this, it meant that Dean disappearing from his job would not raise any red flags as people who got sick of working there just stopping going into work when they'd had enough of it. This was much simpler than he’d hoped, perfect. 

Dean is charming and funny. Not that he needs to be, Castiel's main interest is the man's body, which is beautiful and toned. A work of art waiting to be added to Castiel's collection.

"Would you care to take this..." He paused, acting as though he was hesitant "somewhere more private?" 

Dean's eyes shine at the offer. He licks his lips and nods, downing the rest of his drink quickly, eager Castiel notes. Castiel smiles. He pushes his glass away from him, still half full and moves toward Dean. 

"My place?" He offered as though he'd accept Dean saying no… Luckily though, Dean didn't. He followed him willingly. Walking close to him, stopping him once they were outside the bar and Castiel allowed him to push him lightly against the wall, as though Dean was in control... He smiles into the kiss, Dean’s hot tongue against his lips, massaging against his tongue, Castiel was rock hard in seconds. This man was a drug and Castiel was quickly becoming addicted, he’d never be able to give him up now… not even if he wanted to.

He takes Dean home, driving carefully. Getting out of the car he leads Dean up to the front door, turning to look at him as he takes his key from his pocket, Dean looked so beautiful in his last moments of freedom, so blissfully unaware of what would happen once he crossed that threshold.

Castiel puts the key in the lock, he feels Dean's hands on his waist and it sends a rush of excitement through him, Dean probably thought he would top - how adorably naive. Castiel turns the key and steps inside, Dean following closely behind him. 

The door closes slowly, Castiel watching as Dean walks in. He quietly turns the key to lock the door and removes it. Dropping it into the soil of a large potted plant and covering it as Dean looks around the living room, unaware. 

Castiel decides to indulge the fantasy a little longer, that Dean is here now of his own free will. That he can leave at any moment, should he for whatever reason, change his mind. He shucks off his coat, hanging it on the coat stand near the door. Then, being a gentleman, he helps Dean out of his and hangs it next to his. The fantasy breaks and he turns back to his prey. His captive. Dean smiles at him. It's heartbreakingly beautiful and Castiel wonders... After tonight, would he ever see it again?

Dean moves toward him, the fires of lust burning in his eyes. He leans in slowly, lips parting as they capture Castiel's. Castiel parts his own lips and groans as Dean's soft and warm tongue slides into his mouth, Castiel bites down on it, not too hard but he makes sure Dean feels it as he presses himself against him, crotch to crotch, chest to chest. 

Pulling back, eyes darkening dangerously Castiel smiles at Dean, "How about a drink?" 

Dean frowns for a second before accepting the change of pace, "Sure, what have you got?" 

"Wine, whiskey?" 

"Whiskey," says Dean following Castiel toward his kitchen, "Nice place by the way" he adds looking around at the artistic paintings on the walls. 

Castiel smiles to himself, not turning back to Dean as he says, "I'm glad you like it." He reaches his cabinet and takes out two glasses, gets some ice from the freezer and pours two drinks, whiskey with ice for Dean and wine for himself. Then he hands Dean his drink and leads him to his bedroom.

Dean sips his drink as he walks, following Castiel into his room, he sits next to him on his bed. Castiel puts his glass down on the bedside table, then he shifts back on the bed, positioning himself behind Dean. He begins to rub Dean’s shoulders as he takes another sip of his drink.

"You are a very handsome man," says Castiel sincerely pressing his thumbs into Dean's shoulders and enjoying the groan in draws from him. 

"Not bad yourself, James," says Dean with a smile in his voice.

"I want to be as honest with you as I can, I want you to know that I wanted you from the moment I saw you, but I was hesitant." 

Dean glances back at Castiel over his shoulder, "Why?" 

"Because; once a flower is picked it begins to wilt." 

Dean frowns "What do you mean? You don't think you will still find me 'handsome' if we screw?" He tipped back the last of his drink and leans forward to put the glass next to Castiel's. 

Castiel kneads into Dean's tense muscles and sighs, "House plants don't get as much sun." 

"House plants?" Said Dean sounding confused, a little fuzzy "I don't follow..." 

"Don't worry about it, Dean." whispers Castiel as he lowers his mouth to the back of Dean's neck, distracting him from his confusion with kisses.

Dean’s head feels fuzzy, light and heavy at the same time. He can feel James behind him, his lips pressing down into his skin, it feels nice, so Dean closes his eyes.

***

When Dean opens his eyes again, the feeling of lips at the back of his neck, the feeling of strong hands massaging his shoulders is gone. Instead, he feels ropes. His ankles, his wrists are bound. He looks at his wrist groggily, then tilts his head to look down at his feet, he notices with a jolt that he is naked. When did that happen?

"The ice," Dean looks up as Castiel, also naked comes through the bedroom door, walking toward him. His cock is straining upward. Castiel continues to explain, "I dissolved some Rohypnol into a glass of water and then froze it into ice cubes. I find it’s much less noticeable than dropping a drug into a drink. Wouldn't you agree?" 

Dean blinks at Castiel, “What is this?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, “I think you know. I told you, I’d be as honest with you as I can be… I didn’t want our first time, to be… shall we say, inauthentic.” 

Dean felt a coldness spark inside him that spread throughout his entire body, settling in every vein, every nerve, from his fingertips to his toes, like a shiver of electricity it made the hairs on his skin stand up and prickle. 

“My name is Castiel, not James.” says Castiel as he climbs onto the bed, in between Dean’s spread legs, “I’m a collector, I collect beautiful things…”

Dean’s lips part and Castiel hears him draw in a deep shuddering breath. 

“You are beautiful, Dean. You might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen…” Castiel’s hands fall to Dean’s waist, “I mean look at you..” he says smoothing his fingers over Dean’s tanned skin, “laid bare before me like this. You’re more stunning than the moon, more dazzling than the sun…” Castiel’s eyes flick up to meet Dean’s again, “I’m going to keep you.”

Dean feels frozen… The man who’d made him feel hot and flustered earlier was now the cause of this feeling, the feeling of ice coating his heart. His fear was holding his voice prisoner, just as Castiel was holding him. 

Castiel’s hands move gently, rubbing over Dean’s chest, over his waist, his hips, his fingernails scratching lightly through the hairs on his thighs. He leans down, his nose barely a centimeter from Dean’s skin, he inhales through his nose and breaths Dean’s minty scent in. 

Dean’s eyes widen at the weirdness of being sniffed, he tries to tug his wrist free, but the ropes are strong and he is still dizzy from being drugged. 

“Stop,” he says weakly. His head still feels as though it’s full of water and sloshing from side to side. He jerks as he feels the warm wetness of Castiel’s tongue against his flesh. 

“I’m not going to stop...” whispered Castiel, “I’m going to give you what you need. What we both need.”

“No.” Dean slurs again, he uselessly tugs against the bindings. 

Castiel takes Dean’s cock in his hand and strokes it a few times before bringing his mouth to the tip and licking across it. Castiel looks up to Dean and notices the man’s face is turned away from him, his eyes squeezed shut as though trying to escape in his head. Castiel feels a flicker of anger, Dean should be here for this. Castiel is worshipping his body, he should be grateful. With a wet pop, Castiel pulls his mouth from Dean’s cock, which it pleases him to note is thickening up under his careful attention. 

“You can close your eyes, but not your mind… I’m going to get inside you.” 

Castiel watches with interest as a tear rolls from Dean’s eye and down the side of his face, such emotion from his beautiful flower. Such beautiful thorny pain. His dick swells and his mouth waters. 

He crawls on his hands and knees up over Dean’s body, lowering his own throbbing cock over Deans, he wipes at the tear with a single finger and brings it up to his lips, tasting its salty flavor on his tongue and groaning. 

He lowers his mouth to Dean’s throat, curling his tongue over the skin under Dean’s ear and whispers to him. 

“I’m going to open you up, you’re a flower and you will spread your petals for me… I’m going to slip inside you, inside your body and mind and make you my home. I’m going to grant you pleasure and I’m going to take my own. You belong to me now, Dean. You can have what I let you… you’ll take what I give you. You will be mine, you will give yourself to me and I will worship you for it.”

As he speaks, Castiel raises his fingers to grip at Dean’s neck, “You should know how special you are… that it is my desire for you to live. No man has ever had this effect on me before, you are truly a rose in a city of weeds.”

“Let me go.” says Dean finally opening his eyes to look at Castiel, “Just... Let me go.”

Castiel’s smile twists his face, “Never.”

Castiel slides back down Dean's body, one hand gripping Dean's cock as he brings the other up to his own mouth and sucks on a finger, wetting it and moaning lewdly. Then he reaches down beneath Dean, enjoying as the man flinches at the touch of his moistened finger. 

"Relax," he instructs. 

Dean is shaking his head, muttering an unbroken string of "No-no-no-no..."

Castiel hushes him, pressing his finger against Dean's clenched hole, his voice channels pure horror movie as he grins and whispers, "Little pig, little pig... let me in." 

"STOP IT!" Shouts Dean, his eyes wide with fear.

Castiel shakes his head, "I'll huff and I'll puff... and I'll fuck your ass in." 

“Please… Please don’t” Dean begs, as Castiel begins to push his finger inside Dean, deeper and deeper, “I only came out a year ago… I’ve always, always topped… I can’t. YOU CAN’T do this…” 

Castiel stills, humming low in his throat as he meets Dean's eyes, “Do you mean to tell me… that mine would be the only cock, to be inside you?” 

Dean’s gasping beneath him, he nods, “Yes”

Castiel bites his lower lip between his teeth… “How perfect of you to save yourself for me… You would be only mine.” 

He pulls his finger out of Dean and grabs his own cock, stroking it a few times hastily and ignoring Dean’s desperate pleas… He lines himself up against Dean’s entrance and locks eyes with the man as slides in, fully sheathed inside Dean, who shouts out in pain at the sudden stretch and intrusion.

Castiel stills, savoring the moment, he is pressed inside Dean, feeling his tight warmth surrounding him, gripping him. He leans forward, licking away a tear that’s running down Dean’s cheek, Dean’s head jerks away from his tongue. 

“You’re sick!” he croaks. 

“And you’re perfection.” says Castiel as he draws back, leaving only the head of his cock inside Dean, “perfection… and all mine!” He slams forward on the last word, watching with a glimmer in his eyes as Dean braces himself against the thrust. 

Castiel moves, in and out, in and out… pressing himself further and deeper inside Dean, his pace picking up, the sound of Dean’s grunts of pain fuelling him. He ignores Dean’s begging, he disregards the man’s sobs, he believes - no he knows, that Dean wanted this, deep down. He’d wanted Castiel to fuck him, he’d wanted someone to take control of him, to use him, to worship him unforgivingly. 

Castiel is sweating and panting, each push now brings him closer and closer to that edge and he wants to cross it, to dive into the ecstasy that he knows awaits him just on the other side. He wants to feel that thrill of ownership, that feeling of the claim. Dean is his. No one else will ever lay eyes on him again. Castiel will keep him, sheltered, fed and fucked. He thrusts again, curling himself into Dean as far as he can go, bathing his mind in the howl that Dean releases, just for him to hear. His hands are holding Dean’s shoulders down, Castiel loves that Dean tries to fight, tries to throw him off, it just turns him on even more, how strong Dean is. 

As Castiel feels himself on the very edge of coming inside Dean, his hands go from Dean's shoulders to his neck, gentle at first... Just feeling that steady pulse beat beneath his fingertips that tell him that his latest prey... is still very much alive. And then he begins to squeeze and Dean is fighting beneath him again, thrashing from side to side and sending him rocketing into release as the man blacks out beneath him... Unconscious, but alive and still so breathtakingly beautiful. This was it, Dean was his now. He belonged to him.

***

A while later, when Dean wakes up, Castiel is sat on the bed next to him, staring at him in such an unnerving way that it chills Dean’s insides to his core...

“Are you going to kill me?” asks Dean, his worried eyes burning with tears as the feeling of pain in his rear returns to him. 

Castiel reaches out a cool hand, and cups his cheek, "No. I enjoy you too much. You're like a perfect doll, so beautiful, so delectable... I mean, this is all really your doing, isn’t it? You cast a spell on me and I suddenly can’t be without you. I'm keeping you." 

"You’re insane," Dean says without thinking, “You can't keep me here forever.”

"Can't I?" Castiel’s eyebrows quirk up, "Dean... make no mistake... We shall always be together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a piece in The Ultimate Guide To Destiel Sex, but I thought because of it's darker themes that it would be better to put it as a stand-alone piece. That way it could be tagged properly and I'd avoid triggering anyone. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading x x x


	2. Look How Crazy You Make Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments on the first chapter of this. I was pretty nervous about posting it as I've not done a story where Cas or Dean was the 'baddie' before. So your feedback has been really great. <3 
> 
> If anyone notices anything that they think I should have tagged, that I haven't please leave me a comment and let me know. 
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, thank you =)

Dean stirs to the sound of a familiar clicking. 

"Good morning my love," says Castiel brightly, he’s just in a pair of grey boxers and holding a camera up to his eye. He takes a picture of Dean whilst walking around the bed, "Did you sleep well?"

Dean's eyes flicker open under the fresh purple bruising. His stare is cold and focused as Castiel sweeps cheerfully around the room snapping another picture of Dean on the bed before placing the camera on the bedside table and moving to open the curtains which let the morning suns warm glow light up the room. Castiel stops in front of the bed as he notes the expression on Dean’s face.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that sweetheart, I brought you something for your head…” Castiel holds up a bottle of water and a white tablet and Dean’s eyes go wide, “No, no love… This is just for the pain, I mean I ought not to give you anything, you were very naughty last night, weren’t you? But, as I’m sure you’ve worked out by now… I’m a bit of a softy. When it comes to you, anyway.” 

Castiel sits on the bed, he sits so close to Dean that the hairs on their legs tickle against each other, Dean shudders and gives Castiel a nervous side glance. Castiel is staring at him then with a small smile he brings up a warm hand to cup Dean’s cheek gently but Dean flinches and turns his face away so that his face rests against his arm which is pulled up above him, handcuffed to the bed frame. 

Castiel huffs as he pulls his hand away, sounding annoyed as he says, “Honestly, Dean, I don’t know what you were trying so hard to get back to the world is a horrible place. I’m keeping you safe from it in here, can’t you understand that? You’re far too special to be lost in that sea of dull and ordinary people out there… You like it here with me, don’t you? You love being the center of my world?”

Dean says something through his tight cloth gag and shoots Castiel an angry look, which Castiel ignores in favor of taking a good look at the bump on Dean’s forehead with real regret in his eyes. Dean inches back as Castiel leans in closer, taking his time to examine the purple bruise on Dean’s forehead. Dean grunts again behind his cloth gag and Castiel’s eyes flick down from his forehead to meet his eyes, then lower still to Dean’s mouth. As Castiel drinks in the view of Dean’s pretty pink lips, he slowly scraps his teeth over his lips before sitting back again. 

Castiel sighs, “No, no… You’re right. It was my fault you got hurt last night. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you’d regain your strength so soon, I mean it’s wonderful really, how strong you are but I know you’re still struggling with all of this, it is a big change, moving in with someone.” 

Dean scoffs under his gag. 

Castiel continues, “I understand pet. I do… But don’t worry, mistakes are made to be learned from and I won’t let you injure yourself again, I promise.” 

Dean grunts out something that sounds like ‘fuck you’ under his gag and Castiel smiles at him. 

“Yes, soon sweetheart, needy in the mornings, are you?” he cooed, “But first… you must take your medicine and it’s been two days, Dean… I know you’re hungry, you have to eat something today, alright? Take the tablet and I’ll make you something nice for breakfast.”

Dean stills as Castiel pulls the gag from his mouth, he swallows against the dryness of his mouth and then he is shouting out, screaming out desperately for help… Castiel rolls his eyes, he has explained to Dean that no one will be able to hear him, that he is wasting his energy but Dean is so adorably stubborn that Castiel allows him to shout for a minute before telling him to stop. 

“Dean. You need to stop that sweetheart, you know how it upsets me.” he keeps his voice calm, hoping to appeal to Dean through gentle words and touches. 

“HELP!!” bellows Dean, drowning Castiel’s request out. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice holds more firmness to it this time and he tilts his head at Dean, “I’m warning you.”

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Dean screams out, thrashing against the bed as though the cuffs will suddenly loosen. 

Castiel takes a deep breath, shaking his head, deciding he’s had enough he climbs up and over Dean, straddling him, the thin grey material of his boxers is the only barrier between his cock and Dean’s. He brings the palm of his hand up to Dean’s chin and grips him tightly, turning his head so that Dean’s forced to face him and shocking him into silence. 

“See what you make me do… I hate hurting you, sweetheart. But you have to Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He grips Dean’s chin and drops the tablet into his open mouth. Dean’s eyes are wild and Castiel can feel himself thickening up at the look on his lovers face. He holds a hand over Dean’s mouth until he is sure that the tablet has been swallowed and then leans down over Dean, lying on top of him. He presses his crotch against Dean and hums low in his throat as he rocks himself forward over Dean. 

“You see what you do to me, you feel that?” Castiel says as he presses down again, “You drive me crazy.”

“You’re already crazy! Get off me,” says Dean gasping through the bitter taste of powder from the tablet he’d been made to swallow dry. 

Castiel eyes Dean for a moment, grins and plants a kiss on Dean’s cheek before climbing back off him. “Now, you have to eat… I’d rather not force-feed you, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you healthy Dean, so… What’s it going to be?” 

“You’re going to drug my food…” says Dean looking up desperately at Castiel. 

Castiel nods sadly, “Until I can trust that you aren’t going to get yourself hurt again, by foolish ‘escape’ attempts… Yes, I will, it’s for your own good. But I will be very careful, I will never give you too much. You must eat pet and one way or another, you will.” 

Dean turns away from Castiel, as his eyes bleed out tears of exhaustion, pain, and fear. He’d been here for three days. He missed his brother, he wondered if Sam was trying to find him if the police were looking for him? He’d tried to get out on his own. He’d refused to eat, but now… He was starving and he could either be weak through hunger or be weak through drugs… not much of choice really but he thought, ‘Maybe Castiel will uncuff me so that I can eat… maybe then I’d have a chance to get out of here’. 

“I’ll eat,” he said quietly, not looking at Castiel. 

Castiel beamed at him as though Dean had given him a wonderful, “That’s good, sweetheart. I knew you could do it. Soon you’ll see Dean, I’m going to take such good care of you.” 

Castiel practically bounced out of the room, leaving Dean alone. The only thing Dean hated more than Castiel’s ‘affection’ was being left alone. The fact that Castiel had a job, shouldn’t have surprised Dean, but it had. The first morning after he’d been brought here, Castiel had woken him, tried to get him to eat - unsuccessfully - and then much to Dean’s horror, left him alone, cuffed to the bed for almost eight hours, wearing a towel wrapped around him like some kind of makeshift adult diaper. 

Around an hour after Castiel had left him, Dean had wet himself. The humiliation and shame had had him in tears for nearly two hours. By the time Castiel got home, Dean’s wrists were raw from his trying to free himself from the cuffs and his eyes were puffy and red.

Castiel had come home and given Dean a drink of water… laced with drugs. He’d guided a weak and tired Dean into the bathroom. Ran him a warm bath full of scented bubbles and washed him carefully becoming obviously aroused at Dean’s naked soapy body beneath his fingers. He’d treated Dean’s wrists, wiping them carefully before bandaging them and then he’d brought Dean back to the bed. Dean had been half asleep as Castiel had opened him up, he’d fucked into him slowly, as though making love, before cuffing him back onto the bed frame and wrapping his arms around him, snuggling into him all night, like the world’s strangest lovers. 

The next day, Castiel had tried again to get Dean to eat, but Dean had shut down. Lying still and quiet all day, docile. Which was why Castiel had forgone the sedatives… When he’d uncuffed Dean to let him use the toilet, Dean had attacked him. Castiel was quicker though, skills acquired by years of practice and experience overpowering strong men. He’d had Dean in a chokehold within a matter of seconds. When Dean had slipped from his arms, unconscious, he’d hit his face on the ground. 

Castiel had fretted over him for several hours, before finally leaving the bedroom and letting Dean have his space and sleep alone. He’d crept back into the bedroom during the night and sat by the bed, just watching Dean sleep, watching the man’s bare chest lift and fall with each breath. He’d stoked himself slowly as he stared at Dean, he’d bitten down on his lips to stop himself calling out as he’d climaxed into his hand. Carefully, he’d ghosted a come coated finger over Dean’s lips, smiling as Dean made a tiny noise in his sleep. 

***

Castiel returned after a short while, with a plate of pancakes and bacon on a tray. Also on the tray was a pair of pliers, Dean startled when he saw them, looking up at Castiel with those big beautiful green eyes. 

“Now hush love.” Soothed Castiel, “I want to give you your breakfast, alright… But I’m aware that you're not quite ready to behave yourself, not just yet. Let’s just make this very clear…” He says holding up the pliers in front of Dean’s face, “You’re mine and you’re perfect… I remember the night we met and that big beautiful smile you wore when you looked at me, I love your smile, Dean.”

Dean’s face paled as Castiel spoke. Castiel was stood right over him now and his expression suddenly changed from doting to dark.

“I don’t want to hurt you or ruin that wonderful smile, but if you try to bite me... I will remove a tooth. I will not let anyone or anything, come between us... not even your teeth. Do you understand?” 

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispers more to himself than to Castiel.

“Dean, tell me that you understand?” repeated Castiel. 

Dean nods, “Yeah… I understand.”

“Excellent. Alright then, breakfast.” Castiel proceeds to hand feed Dean, bite by careful bite Dean eats his meal. As the meal goes on, he notices that Castiel’s fingers edge ever closer to his lips, to his teeth, testing him. Eventually, Castiel holds on tightly to a piece of bacon, pushing his fingers into Dean’s mouth and not letting it go. Castiel groans loudly as Dean’s tongue brushed against his finger, then finally he pulls his hand away. 

After breakfast, Castiel praises Dean for his good behavior and takes the plate away. He returns to the bedroom after enough time for the drugs to have taken effect and uncuffs Dean, guiding him into the bathroom, Dean uses the toilet and then Castiel bathes him, again. Paying extra attention to his asshole, which worries Dean, he knows what it means. 

“You were so good for me, Dean. Eating all your breakfast… Now I want to do something for you.” Castiel leads Dean back to the bed, this time he gets Dean to lie on his front, he cuffs his arms up to the bed frame and then walks to the end of the bed. Pulling Dean’s legs apart by his feet and binding his ankles to the bed frame with thick rope. 

Panic flares up in Dean’s chest, even through the haze of drowsiness he knows he doesn’t want Castiel to touch him like this, “Don’t… Please? Just let me go.” 

Castiel’s face flashes with anger before he quickly schools his expression, “Why do you say such things to me? You know I’m not going to let you go Dean, not ever. You belong to me. You should be grateful that I take such good care of you… and that I want to make you feel good. Don’t you want to feel good?” 

“No!” says Dean, “I want to go home!” 

Castiel clenches his jaw, he leans up over Dean, grabbing the discarded gag and roughly retie’s it around Dean’s mouth, ignoring the arousal that sparks within him as Dean’s teeth bite around the gag. 

“You are home.” says Castiel firmly, “I don’t want to hear you say that again, do you understand? I won’t be happy if I hear that again, Dean. This is your home now, soon you’ll come to love it… You’ll come to love me.”

Dean shouts out and even against his gag, the word ‘No’ is clear. 

Castiel glares at him. His chest rising and falling with his anger. Dean looks back at him over his shoulder, his nervous expression is fearful but does nothing to dull Castiel’s rage. The first smack comes as a shock and Dean winces, his hips jerking forward into the mattress. 

Castiel smacks his palm down again, across his other buttcheek this time, again and again. Until Dean’s ass shines red. Dean is groaning into his gag, muttering muffled words that almost sound like ‘I’m sorry’ but Castiel doesn’t care, naughty boys get punished. 

When Dean’s ass is wonderfully pink, Castiel pulls his hard cock from his trousers and jerks himself off roughly, not touching Dean just leering over him, until he finally sprays his climax over Dean’s ass, marking him in his come. Panting Castiel rubs his fingertips through his come and all over Dean’s ass. 

Dean’s crying again, silent sobs that Castiel is only aware of because of how the man’s body shakes when he sobs, but Castiel does not offer him any comfort. He doesn’t speak to him at all. He tucks himself back into his pants and stands up, leaving the bedroom without a backward glance at Dean, whose left handcuffed to the bed, naked, with Castiel’s come painting his rear. 

Ten hours later. Castiel returns to the bedroom. Dean’s sleeping in a wet patch of his own making and Castiel wakes him gently. Dean’s eyes fill with tears again as he looks up at Castiel. 

“Dean, I want you to drink some of this water, then when you’re calm, I will take you to the bathroom and you can wash while I change the sheets on the bed.” Dean nods and Castiel carefully pulls the gag from between Dean’s lips to offer him a drink. Dean drinks thirstily, he knows that he’s being drugged, but he is too tired and dehydrated to care.

“Look at you, needing me so much. Don’t worry, I’ll always be right here for you,” says Castiel proudly, as he strokes the side of Dean’s face. “I’m always going to come back, you know? No matter how cross you make me, I’ll always come back.”


	3. Looking For You

Castiel is lying across his couch in the living room, idly flicking through the images on Dean’s phone, he’d had it switched off for the whole week. Really, he knows he should get rid of it, but temptation had overpowered him and he’d switched it on and started noting down all of Dean’s contacts, going through his messages and pictures. 

Jealousy flared inside him with each image that had Dean smiling at someone else. He missed that smile, he deserved it, hadn’t he proven to Dean by now that no one would do more for him than Castiel. He connected Dean’s phone to his computer and downloaded all of the images, he made a copy of each, editing it so that it was his face that was beaming back at Dean and not some drunken slut. The pictures looked good, so good in fact that he decided to print some off. He pulled out his photo album, wistfully looking through it at the images of his past victims. 

They had all been part of his ‘collection’, but he was moving on from that, his new obsession… was Dean. Having these old images actually made him feel guilty, like looking at them was somehow a betrayal to Dean. He pulled out the pictures, replacing them with the happier looking fake life he’d just constructed for himself and Dean. No rope or handcuffs insight, no blood, no paling faces of someone slipping away. Just him and Dean, together. 

“Always,” He whispers to himself as an idea hits him. He grabs his camera and downloads the pictures he has taken of Dean, he’ll add those to the album, editing them of course and he can always take more of him and Dean together. 

It’s starting to get light now, so he pulls his shirt over his head and heads down the hallway to his and Dean’s bedroom. He opens the door quietly and smiles at Dean’s slow and steady breathing. Of course, Dean doesn’t snore, just another reason that his lover is perfect. He lies next to Dean on the bed, he cuffs one of Dean’s arms and lays it over himself, then snaps a picture so that it looks as though Dean’s hugging him in his sleep. He looks at the picture for a few minutes, taking in how relaxed Dean looks, how nice it looks for Dean to be holding him… 

He uncuffs Dean’s other arm and takes a few more pictures, him kissing Dean’s cheek lightly, him wrapped around Dean, him smiling up at the camera with Dean’s face just behind him. 

Then he gets carefully off the bed and puts the camera on the desk on the other side of the room, opening a drawer and pulling out two long lengths of white rope. He runs it through his hands, feeling his desire awakening at the roughness of the rope. 

*** 

“My brother has been missing for a week and you’ve got nothing! No leads, no suspects, no trace of him? What the hell am I meant to do with that?” 

“Mr. Winchester, as soon as we have any information, you will be the first to know.” 

“That’s not good enough, Dean wouldn’t just disappear, something has happened to him.” Sam says angrily, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration, “Please…”

“I understand that this is a difficult time for you, Mr. Winchester but…” 

Sam hangs up, he tosses his phone across the room, it lands with a thump on the couch. He walks to the window and stares down at the city as it wakes up as if hoping to spot Dean. 

***

Dean wakes up to the feeling of warmth between his legs. His body is moving back and forth and there is a heaviness over him. He opens his eyes as he realizes that his cock is half-hard. Hard and rubbing against a warm body that is rocking down onto him slowly. Castiel is groaning softly with each gentle motion. 

Despite how wrong the situation, Dean’s body reacts to it, his dick swells at the sight of Castiel’s rubbing down over it. Castiel must feel it too because he quickly looks down into Dean’s eyes and smiles at him. 

The handcuffs have been removed and his wrists have been tied in more of that thick went rope, the angle is more comfortable but still restricting, his arms pulled out to either side of the bed, rather than directly behind him. His body is now spread to each corner of the bed frame, like a star with Castiel lay with his legs between Dean’s waist and his arms holding him up on either side of Dean’s chest. 

“Good morning beautiful.” says Castiel, “I wondered when you would rejoin the land of the living.” Castiel lowers his mouth to Dean’s throat and licks and kisses at Dean’s neck. 

Dean’s eyes close and he groans, it feels… Wait. His eyes snap open again, his expression fills with panic, “Get off. Get off me!” 

“It’s alright love, it’s alright,” soothes Castiel continuing to rock his body against Deans, “You can enjoy it, you know? I want you to. No one else is ever going to know, no one’s going to judge you… Take some pleasure for yourself. Just let go, enjoy it.” 

Dean shakes his head, ready to object but then Castiel’s hand slips between them and grips their cocks together and Dean gasps out loud. Castiel is jacking them together, faster and faster and Dean’s eyes close again, against his will. His body betrays him as he moans. 

“That’s it love,” pants Castiel as he stares at Dean’s face in awe, “Just let go.” 

“Fuck.” grits out Dean, half in annoyance, half in arousal. _ What the fuck is wrong with me? _

Castiel pushes down harder, faster, he lowers his mouth Dean’s neck again, sucking and kissing the flesh along Dean’s throat.

Whispering praise in Dean’s ear. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Dean. You deserve this, so let go and take it. You’ve been so good for me. I want to see you come apart.” 

When Dean comes, it surprises him, no matter how fucked up the situation, he can’t deny that he’d enjoyed that. 

But then Castiel leans down over him as though going to kiss him on the mouth and Dean’s insides squirm. He turns his head sharply to the side. 

“No,” says Dean harshly, “Don’t.” 

Castiel pauses a short distance away from him, looking hurt, “I thought… I thought you liked it?” He asks almost sounding shy.

Dean’s eyes flick back to look at his face and his head turns to follow, how can this man, the man who’s had him cuffed to a bed naked for a week, looking sad pull at his heart like this. Why should he feel guilty for not kissing him?

“Hey! No. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull that shit with me, trying to make me feel guilty.” Snaps Dean finding his voice. He glares at Castiel, "You brought me here, kept me here, you've abused me and now you're trying to make me look like the bad guy for not kissing you and acting like everything is fine? I don't think so... You're the monster, not me!"

Castiel looks surprised for a moment, but schools his expression quickly, “You know I can’t ‘make’ you feel guilty about anything, Dean. If you’re feeling bad over the way that you’ve treated me, that’s on you, not me. Maybe you should consider how your actions make me feel. I just wanted to make you feel loved, to make you feel good and to keep you safe… After everything I've done for you since you moved in..." Castiel shakes his head "I’m **really** starting to feel unappreciated in this relationship.” 

Dean stares at Castiel in disbelief, he is speechless and confused, Castiel looks genuinely upset. 

“I’ll bring you some breakfast in a bit when I've calmed down.” He says quietly, before slowly leaving the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, Castiel’s face breaks into a smile, Dean’s feeling guilty about not kissing him…

Dean’s ** _feeling _ **about him.


	4. Look At Me, Speak To Me

It had been three… no, four weeks? Four weeks since Dean had ‘moved in’ as Castiel put it. Four weeks of ropes and handcuffs, four weeks of rewards and punishments. Four weeks of not seeing or speaking to Sam, of only having Castiel for company. Dean wanted to get out, to go home and see Sam. He missed his brother and spent a lot of time wondering how Sam was coping with him being gone. It made his heart physically ache to think that Sam might be out there right now looking for him, worrying about him. 

Even though he wanted to go home, it was becoming almost normal to be here now and he couldn’t work out when he had started to feel relieved at seeing Castiel come through the bedroom door. He reasons that it must have been during the week after he’d called Castiel a monster. Castiel had returned that day, as promised, with his breakfast, he’d untied one of Dean’s ropes from the bed frame and allowed Dean to feed himself. 

At first, Dean had thought that this was a good thing and he’s still not sure that it wasn’t, but when he had finished eating, Castiel had tied the rope back to the bed and left the room. He hadn’t spoken to Dean at all during his meal, he hadn’t even looked at him. Oddly, Dean found it more unsettling than when Castiel would stare at him. A few hours later and Castiel returned, untied the ropes and walked Dean to the toilet as though the rope was his leash. 

The rest of the day had passed in silence, creepy hair raising silence. Dean felt like he was on edge even more so than he had been the week before, waiting for something to happen. Had he really hurt Castiel’s feelings this much? How long would the silent treatment last? 

That night Castiel had left Dean in the bedroom, untouched. He had turned the lights off and closed the door, without so much as a single word to him since breakfast. The next morning, Castiel entered the bedroom to find that Dean was already awake. Dean looked up when Castiel came in, waiting for the usual ‘Good morning beautiful’ that Castiel had been greeting him with. Dean had thought it pretty creepy and all to familiar but now he found himself staring at Castiel as he brought his breakfast tray over and willing him to say it in his mind but Castiel simply untied the ropes and let Dean eat, only glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes every now and then. He led Dean to the bathroom and turned the shower on, Dean showered quickly, aware that Castiel was watching him in silence and then he dried off and returned to the bed. 

The next morning, Dean couldn’t take it anymore, “What’s the point?” he asked angrily. 

Castiel startled and turned to face Dean, where he sat on the bed, with a confused expression “Excuse me?” 

“What’s the point of keeping me here, if you aren’t going to talk to me or… or anything.” Dean had started the sentence with confidence but had trailed off, embarrassed, when he realized it was almost like he was asking to be raped.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head, “I thought I was a ‘monster’? Why would you want to talk to me?” 

Dean blinked, trying to think of an answer. He looked down, why couldn’t he shake the unfair feeling of guilt? 

Castiel gave Dean a sad smile, “I thought this would make it easier for you? If I didn’t touch you or talk to you? I thought it would help.” 

Dean stared back at Castiel, he didn’t know what to say, this conversation wasn't going the way he’d thought it would. It was so strange, all of the anger in him had deflated slightly and now he felt unsure of himself. 

Castiel sighed and shifted slightly so he was a little closer to Dean, “Is it not better?” he asked softly, finding Dean’s gaze and holding it with his own. Damn those green eyes, so deep and beautiful. 

“No,” said Dean finally able to give an actual answer, “No, it’s not better. It’s…”

“Lonely?” Supplied Castiel. 

Dean nodded, “Yeah.” 

Castiel looked saddened, “I know that feeling. Loneliness can lead people to do drastic things… Like this, for example.” He motioned between them. Castiel watched as Dean processed what he’d said that he, Castiel, was lonely too, then he added quietly, “When I come in to see you, in the mornings and say good morning to you… even though you don’t say it back, it was the best part of my day.” 

Dean frowns and Castiel waits. Watching as thoughts stir behind those green eyes, as Dean thinks and goes through things in his mind, he sees it in his face before Dean even speaks, he sees it like a switch being flicked. He stares at him, expectantly but patient. Dean’s eyes meet his and his heart beats rapidly in his chest. It’s coming, it’s coming… 

“I’m sorry.”

The words are quiet but firm and Castiel feels them inside himself like floodwater rising. Filling him, spreading warmth through him. Two little words and he’s beating down the arousal flaring inside him. He can’t spoil this, he needs to respond carefully, he needs to give something back to Dean. 

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles at Dean warmly, “I’ll take your tray and get you a radio if you like? Some music will help.” 

Dean sags but it isn’t with sadness, it’s with something altogether different. Gratitude. 

Castiel ties him tightly back to the bed and takes his tray away. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he places the tray on the ground and pulls the zip down on his pants, taking his semi-hard cock from his trousers and jerking himself roughly, one hand on his cock, one on the door behind which Dean Winchester is laid out naked on his bed, naked and sorry and grateful. Castiel bites his lip as he pictures himself fucking into Dean. He comes in his own hand panting into the crook of his arm to quieten his activities. 

Dean watched the door close behind Castiel and felt himself relax with relief, Castiel had spoken to him, he still existed. He still mattered. Castiel wasn’t going to kill him, he was bringing him a radio, a connection to the world beyond his four walls. The voice that had been telling him to escape was still there, but a little quieter, drowned out in part by a voice telling him to be grateful that he was still alive, that he was being fed and that Castiel had lowered the dose of the drugs he was using to keep him ‘calm’. Dean was physically more aware, even though his mind was still a mess of conflicting emotions.

And so it had gone on, every time Dean had done something that pleased Castiel he’d been rewarded. A radio, a portable DVD player. When he’d first said ‘morning’ back to Castiel, he was allowed to have the ropes on his hands removed if he had his feet chained together with the door locked, he could move around the room but only slowly. It had been a little weird when he’d sucked a piece of chocolate from Castiel’s fingers but being gifted his favorite pie for dinner the following day made it seem worth it. 

Castiel praises him generously as he sits perfectly still while being shaved with a cutthroat razor. Castiel swept the blade lightly over his chin, feeling the thrill of Dean’s life being in his hands but never once considering ending it. When he was done, he saw that Dean’s eyes were misty and he frowned at him, checking his face for cuts. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks with concern. 

Dean shakes his head.

“You think because you’re not saying anything that I can’t see that you’re upset?” Castiel tilts his head to look into Dean’s eyes, “I can see that you are hurting my love, I just don’t understand why?” 

“I can’t explain,” says Dean, carefully picking his words so as not to make Castiel angry, “Sometimes, I just feel sad.”

Castiel looks pityingly down at Dean, “I don’t want you to feel sad Dean, I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy.”

“I know,” says Dean. He sighs and wipes his eyes, “It’s my brother… I miss him. I taught him how to shave and I don’t know… It’s stupid.” 

Castiel frowns, his hands twitching slightly. He takes a step away from Dean, fighting a war in his head. Dean misses his brother, that is a totally normal thing, isn't it? Castiel should be able to accept that, shouldn’t he? 

His face hardens. His eyes narrow at Dean. A fit of ugly jealousy building in his chest, with a bitter feeling of rejection fueling it. He meets Dean’s worried gaze with his venomous glare. 

“Am I not enough for you?”


	5. Look At My Face, I Own You

Dean’s fearful silence only angers Castiel further. He stares into Dean’s eyes, waiting for an answer for almost a full minute before he decides that time is up and Dean needed to be taught a lesson. 

“Clearly, I made a mistake. I stopped showing you who you belong to and now… you seem to have forgotten.” Castiel grabs Dean by a tuft of hair and pulls his face up roughly to look at him, “So, this is me, swallowing my pride and admitting that I made a mistake… but I’m going to fix it. I’m going to fix it right now.” He suddenly turns and starts dragging Dean across the floor to the door by his hair.

Kicking out and trying to get on his feet, Dean is panicking and yelling out. He hears the door open, he hasn’t been outside his bedroom in about a month, the fear that Castiel dragging him out of it produces is nothing short of paralyzing. Where is he taking him?

Dean is hauled through the door and then pulled up to his feet, Castiel slams him back into the wall, laying an arm across Dean’s chest and using it to hold him in place. His other hand is exploring below Dean’s waist until he finds Dean’s dick and takes hold of it firmly.

“This is mine.” he says before letting go and poking a finger roughly over where Dean’s heart is, “That. Is mine.” he says glaring into Dean’s eyes. Then his finger rises again and he pokes into the side of Dean’s head with enough force that Dean’s head jerks to the side, “That is mine too,” Dean looks away from Castiel and down to the floor, Castiel pokes him again, “LOOK AT MY FACE, I OWN YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Dean paled as Castiel shouted right into his face, still pinning him to the wall. His eyes felt like they had dried open, he simply couldn’t look away from Castiel. It was the loudest thing he’d heard in a month, normally Castiel was pretty calm, controlling most of his anger. ‘But, that was when he’d been fucking me' thought Dean… 'He’d had his release and never blown his top.’

Releasing what he was probably in for did nothing to alleviate his terror, his hearts beating double-time, his throat feels like sandpaper, rough and dry, he shivers… Finally, he breaks eye contact with Castiel, letting his gaze travel down over Castiel’s body, to the front of his trousers… Where, sure enough, all of Castiel’s rage and interest could be seen pressing forward against the front of his pants.

Castiel grabs Dean’s arms and pushes them into the wall above his head, he slams his lips against Dean’s and Dean stares at him in shock as Castiel kisses him, forcing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, Castiel's eyes are closed. Remembering the threat of the pliers, Dean fights the urge to bite down, instead, he focuses all his energy into going completely lax, stilling against the assault on his mouth. His eyes watering with emotion when Castiel pulls away, looking if anything - more pissed off. 

“Still thinking about your brother?” he spits

Dean shakes his head vehemently. 

Castiel narrows his eyes, “I don’t believe you.” 

In a flurry of movement, Castiel hooks a foot behind Dean’s legs, tripping him up so that he tumbles to the floor his head bumping the ground as he lands, then he is being dragged again, by his feet.

He can feel the rough carpet scratching over his back, itching at his naked skin, burning. When Castiel finally stops and pulls him up again, Dean’s feeling dizzy and disoriented. 

Castiel unlocked a door and tugged him through it. He looks about him, if he thought he’d been afraid before… it was nothing to how he felt now. 

The walls of the room Castiel had brought him too, were lined in sheet plastic. There was a large toolbox in one corner and a shelving set lining one wall, with a sheet of plastic hanging down over it, blurring his view of the objects stacked behind it. In the middle of the room, was a curved ‘table’... Not really a table thinks Dean. Its surface was almost like a cushion, one of those hard cushions you’d find on a vaulting table in a school gym. Two of the legs had buckles on them. 

Castiel pushed Dean roughly toward it. Dean stumbled towards it, but then caught himself and turned back to face Castiel, his heart was racing in his chest... as he realized what this room was. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked trying to bat off Castiel’s grabbing hands.

Castiel caught his wrist and twists it, until Dean stills under the pain, looking up at Castiel with wild alarm. 

“You don’t listen… do you?” asks Castiel, “This might be my kill room… but you are here to be taught a lesson. Turn.”

Dean didn’t move. Frozen in place. 

“TURN!!!” bellowed Castiel his face turning red with rage. 

Shaking, Dean slowly turned feeling Castiel ease off his grip of Dean’s arm. He hated that he was putting himself over the table, hated that he stayed still, closing his eyes and preying as Castiel fastened the buckles around his ankles so tightly that the straps dug into his skin. 

Castiel moved away from Dean, muttering about ‘disobedience’, he walked over to the shelving and pushed aside the plastic sheet covering it, when he walked back over to Dean, he had a roll of duct tape in his hands. 

“Put your arms behind your back,” he commanded. Dean obeyed, deciding that not pissing Castiel off further was his best chance of getting out of this alive.

***

“I’m going to ask you ten questions. You will answer them clearly and correctly. Failure to do so will result in punishment. You must answer all ten questions in a row, for this to end. Do you understand?” 

“Yes!” Dean’s hands are duct-taped behind him, resting on the small of his back. His ankles are buckled down and his body is resting over the table. Castiel is circling behind him, a black paddle in his hand. He stares at Dean's ass hungrily with his eyebrow quirked in dominating interest. 

“Good. You must only answer the questions, saying anything else… will be classed as a wrong answer and you will be punished.” 

Dean squeezed his eyes closed and tried to concentrate. The terror that was screaming its way around his body was putting him off, he's shaking, feeling freezing cold but at the same time sweating profusely. 

Castiel puts the paddle down on a table nearby and pulls his shirt over his head and throws it away from him, “What’s my name?” 

Dean blinks, “Castiel.” 

“Good. Who owns you?” 

Dean makes a face, the words are right there, behind his lips, he knows what Castiel wants to hear, but something… Something stops him from speaking. 

“Who. Owns. You?” Castiel repeats pulling the zip down on his trousers. He looks at Dean’s face, eyes shut, head down… hiding. Seething Castiel picks up the paddle and walks back toward Dean.

Dean can hear Castiel’s footsteps getting closer. Whatever was going to happen, was mere seconds away, trembling he tried to grip one of his hands around the other, holding on to himself for comfort. The first smack rockets painfully through his entire body, making him jerk forward so sharply that the table thing he is strapped to rocks on its front legs before falling back on to all four legs. 

“What’s my name?” 

“Castiel,” pants Dean trying to breathe out the pain. 

“Who owns you?” 

“Y-you do.” whimpers Dean. 

Dean doesn’t see the heat in Castiel’s eyes at his words, but he does feel a light touch on his pink stinging behind. 

Castiel pulls his pants down and tosses them away to the corner of the room, “What do I want?” 

Dean frowns, “I-I, I don’t know?” Smack! “Shit… I don’t know!” Smack. 

“Think Dean. I told you already. I told you what I want.” 

Dean tried to think, but his ass was heating up with prickly pain, then it came to him. “For me to be happy.” Dean internally rolled his eyes, ‘Do I fucking look happy?’. 

“Good. Now, say it all together.” Commands Castiel as he rests his dick above Dean’s ass crack, rubbing it up and down over him. 

“Your name is Castiel, you own me and you just want me to be happy.” Dean hadn’t realized that Castiel was creating a speech for him, he’d thought these random fucked up questions, but there did seem to be a direction with them at least, or there had until… Castiel’s cock poked at his hole and then he said clearly... 

“What’s your brother's name?” 

Dean flinched, really? He wanted him to talk about Sam now? What the hell. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s tone was full of warning, “I’ll know if you lie.”

“My brother's name is Sam.” 

Castiel pressed forward as Dean spoke, his hard dick breaching Dean’s unprepared hole slowly, “Is your brother here?” 

“No.” 

“Am I here?” 

“Yes.” 

Castiel pushes forward and groans as he bottoms out, “Good, say it all together…” 

“Your name is Castiel, you own me and you just want me to be happy. My brother's name is Sam. Sam is not here, you are.”

“Whose cock is in your ass?” Asks Castiel moving back and forth slowly, his eyes glinting as Dean winces against the burn. 

“Yours.”

“Are you still thinking about your brother?” Asks Castiel darkly. 

“No!” Dean says defensively. 

“Do you want your brother to be here, now… doing this,” Castiel rolled his hips forward “instead of me?” 

“No!” Dean’s eyes snap open to look back at Castiel, what the hell was he on about, did he mean...

“Say it all again Dean…” 

“Your name is Castiel, you own me and you just want me to be happy. My brother's name is Sam. Sam is not here, you are. It’s your cock inside me, I’m not thinking about Sam and I don’t wish he was here...” 

“Last question. Whose name are you going to call out when I make you come. Sam’s or mine?” 

Dean swallowed, there was no way he could say Sams name, just talking about his brother as Castiel fucked him, was wrong… but he’d never said Castiel’s either. How could he call out for the man who was doing this to him? 

“Mine. Or Sams?” 

Dean blinked out tears, “I can’t… I can’t…”

Smack. The flat of the paddle was brought back down harshly against Dean’s ass. 

“MINE OR SAMS?” 

“FUCK YOU!” shouted Dean, tears burning down his face. 

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Dean howled at the pain, “STOP, stop… please? Alright, fuck. Yours. Yours okay?” 

Castiel stilled behind him, “Say it all, from the beginning.” 

“Y-your name is C-c-castiel, you own m-me and you just want m-me to be happy. My brother's name is S-sam. Sam is not…” Dean pauses taking a deep breath against the pain, “Sam’s not here, you are. It’s your cock inside me, I’m not thinking about Sam and I don’t wish he was here… it’s your name...”

“SAY IT.” as Castiel shouts at him, Dean can feel flecks of sweat from Castiel's forehead raining down on to his back and ass. 

“It’s you-your name. I will shout out your name... when I come.” Will he? Would he really be able to do that? 

Castiel bends down over him, his sweaty chest rests along Dean's back and he brings his mouth close to Dean's ear, his voice is dangerously low as he whispers... "Dean... I don't believe you."


	6. Looking Out For You

“My names Sam. I believe that my brother may have been in here, around a month ago.” 

“So?” the barman questioned whilst drying a pint glass on a grubby looking cloth. 

“So…” Sam breathes in through his nose, trying to calm himself, “So, he is missing and I was wondering if you could look at this picture,” he holds up a photograph of Dean, “His name is Dean.”

The barman raises his eyebrow and plucks the photo from Sam’s hand, holding it under a dim bar light and looking at it closely, “Yeah,” he says gruffly, looking up at Sam, “I remember him, a bit of a lightweight, he only had a couple of drinks… then was stumbling all over the place, I remember because he knocked into one of my girls; Meg, sent her whole tray of beers flying.”

“You do? He was here… Do you remember if he left with anyone?” Sam asked, his heart thudding in his chest. This could be it, finally… a lead to finding Dean. He’d been to so many pubs and bars in the last couple of weeks, the police had been useless… Sam is certain that they’ve given up, well he isn’t going to give up that easily, Dean would never give up on him. 

“Oh aye… Your brother seemed pretty hot for one of my regulars James, although…” the man frowned, placing the glass down on a shelf and scratching the back of his neck, “Not seen James for a few weeks, come to think of it…” 

***

"Dean... I don't believe you." 

Dean felt the words hit him like winter, icy and dark. They crawled into his ear, slithered down his neck and skipped along his spine, sending tingles of shuddering dread through his body. 

“It’s you… It’s your name, please... You. Your name.” Deans scrambling his words in his haste to win back Castiel’s favor. 

"Mmm… No, I think you are simply telling me what you think I want to hear, I don't think you really mean it." Castiel pushes himself deep in Dean's ass, drawing a groan of pain from Dean that makes his heart skip, he whispers, "How can I be sure that you are really here, with me… and not escaping to someplace in your mind with Sam?"

Dean frowns, was he meant to answer that? This whole situation was so passed crazy that he was losing patience with it. If Castiel wanted him dead, he’d be dead already, wouldn’t he? Feeling a sudden burst of anger and boldness from God knows where Dean squeezes his eyes shut and starts shouting at Castiel.

“I did EXACTLY what YOU wanted, you SICK FUCK. You gonna do something to me, get the fuck on with it, I’m tied down here, the hell are you waiting for?!” 

Castiel grips a hand full of his hair and tugs his head back harshly, he breathes roughly against the side of Dean’s neck for a moment, before licking the shell of Dean's ear and continuing in an unnervingly calm voice, "I think the only thing to do here, to make sure… is make it so that you are begging me… To make you scream my name and have you **begging me** to let you come. Then, and only because I love you so much, I will oblige."

"You don't love me, you're insane," says Dean quietly. 

Castiel ignores Dean and continues... “And you **will say** my name. And you will be grateful. And you **will love me**.” 

Castiel leans back and lets his dick slip out from inside of Dean. He walks over to the shelving unit and fumbles behind the sheet of plastic and then returns a few moments later with a cock ring in one hand and an eye mask in the other.

"I'm going to put these on you… and then I'm going to explore your body, every last inch of it. And you know, I don't have to go out today… so we have the whole day, to make sure this lesson really **sinks **in."

Dean thrashes from side to side as Castiel puts the blindfold over his eyes. He feels Castiel put the cock ring around his flaccid member, then to his surprise Castiel runs his hands down the back of his legs, until he reaches the buckles at his ankles, he undoes them one at a time and Dean carefully stands up, his ass is still hot and sore from where the paddle had hit and it smarts as he straightens up. 

Castiel watches as Dean winces against the pain, admiring his shining ass and the way he looks utterly delicious, stood in front of him completely naked with his arms still taped together behind his back. Castiel swallows, his cock is still hard, painfully so… He knows he isn’t going to last very long. 

Moving swiftly, he stalks toward Dean and grips him by the waist, walking him backward until a grunt escapes Dean as his back hits the wall. Castiel lifts one of Dean’s legs up high and lets it rest against his waist as he quickly grabs the other, raising that one up too. He reaches under Dean’s thigh and finding his own cock, guides it up and inside of Dean’s entrance. 

“Fuck,” grits out Dean at the lack of warning. 

But Castiel barely hears him as he is already bucking up wildly into Dean. He supports Dean’s weight with his arms and by leaning him back against the wall and fucks up into him sharply. Snapping his hips forward, over and over and drinking in each shout of pain, each plea to stop, each desperate word Dean says as he drives himself deeper and deeper. 

Castiel bites at Dean's collar bone as he starts to come, he grips the base of Dean's cock roughly, sliding one leg up against the wall to better support Dean's weight, the roar he lets out as he spurts into Dean's ass is raw and animalistic. He presses forward as deep as he can go into Dean and pants against his throat, feeling Dean's rapid pulse through his cheek. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” asks Dean weakly, as he lets his head thud back against the wall. 

His breathing is still settling as Castiel lowers Dean's legs down, his spent and deflating cock slips out of Dean and slaps wetly against his flesh. “So that you learn that you are mine and you don’t need anyone else, not even your brother, whilst you have me…” Castiel says, as his hands rise to slide the blindfold up over Dean's eyes and he meets them with a dark intensity, “I will never let you forget what it feels like to be desired.”

***

Dean is still naked, except for his blindfold, of course, which has been neatly positioned back over his eyes. He’s bolted to the floor by an ankle strap on each leg. There are two short chains holding them down, he has a cuff on each wrist that is connected to a chain that hangs down from the ceiling. His arms are chained up and spread wide. Castiel’s come is slowly oozing from his hole. He can hear nothing, but his own breathing and do nothing but wait for Castiel to return, so he waits. 

His head pricks up at the sound of distant footsteps echoing closer, he feels each step as though someone is tapping them out on his heart. Tap. Tap. Tap. He swallows and shakes his head, trying to wake himself up, make himself more alert. His lips part as he tries to quieten his breathing and listen as Castiel draws near. It’s almost as though Dean can taste him in the air on his tongue.

Castiel is no longer a living breathing man, no longer a physical being that has been torturing him but rather he is a nightmare that can fly through the air and send shivers rippling over Dean’s skin. He is a black cloud that enters Dean’s body as he breathes in and spreads his icy chill throughout him, infecting him with fear and doubt. 

Dean hears his tormentor humming, the familiar song by The Police - Every Breath You Take reaches Dean and he never realized until this moment just how creepy that song actually was. 

The humming and the footsteps get closer and closer, Castiel is in the room now. The humming stops. The footsteps stop. Dean’s grits his teeth, curling his hands around the chains and holding on tightly, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen to him. 

Slow, deliberate footsteps, one… two… three… coming closer. The room feels suddenly colder than it had a moment before and Dean trembles. Four… five… six… Castiel stops right in front of him, not speaking. Not moving. Just there, haunting him. Dean’s whole body is shaking now, his rapid breathing making his chest palpitate. He licks his lips and swallow’s against the dryness of his throat. He waits. 

Dean’s heart screams and his whole body lurches forward as a hand grips his waist… from behind. He’d been sure that Castiel had been stood in front of him, how was he suddenly behind him? He hears Castiel’s soft chuckle. 

Gasping through the shock he shouts, “Bastard, just FUCK OFF!” 

Dean cringes as he feels Castiel wrap himself around him in some kind of backward hug, “As you wish…” Castiel whispers and Dean frowns, but then his face blows wide with surprise as he feels something smooth and slimy being pushed against his ass hole. 

“What the fuck is that, what are you doing?!” He shouts in panic. 

Dean can hear the sick smile in Castiel’s voice as he says, “Just a little something to keep you from getting bored.” he pushes the plug into Dean’s ass and Dean groans angrily. 

Then Castiel is walking away from him again, back towards where Dean knows the door is. Dean hears a ‘click’ and then he lurches forward again as the vibrations from the butt plug shoot through him. 

Castiel’s amused voice speaks out again, “I have the remote, I’ll give it a click every time I think about you… That way you’ll know, just how much I love you, you’ll know how much you mean to me and since you clearly want some alone time, I won’t disturb you… for an hour or so.”

“Son of a bitch!” 

“See you shortly, my love.” Dean hears the footsteps move away. Before Castiel even reaches the end of the corridor, Dean feels the speed increase on the plug in his ass and he pushes forward against his chains, crying out. Then it clicked again and the speed went back down. 

“Shit.” Muttered Dean panting.

The buzzing is on a low setting for a few minutes and Dean tries desperately to ignore it, the feel of the cool metal inside him, stretching him. He tries to think of something, anything else. He starts by reciting the alphabet, then gasps his way through a Led Zeppelin song by the end he is panting and trying to remember the lines to one of his favorite movies, occasionally stuttering out random quotes as the buzzing hitches up a notch. 

He jerks forward, his wrists straining against the cuffs on them which have started to rub painfully. The buzzing clicks down to the lowest setting again and Dean falls back into a more relaxed position. His chest is rising and falling rapidly now and he can feel drops of sweat running down his forehead from his hairline and soaking into the blindfold over his eyes.

His mind starts to play tricks on him, imagining Castiel’s hands on his skin, his breath ghosting over his neck. Shuddering he shakes his head trying to will away the all too real arousal that is steadily building and ignoring his silent pleas to go away, that this is wrong… The buzzing increased again and he gasps as his cock swells and slaps up against his stomach.

“Fuck!”

Dean starts rocking his body forward seeking friction, without really realizing what he is doing. His cock is still standing firm and pats against his stomach with his motions. 

The buzzing increases and decreases several more times before he hears the telltale sound of Castiel coming into the room. Again he is hit with a strange sense of relief that Castiel is there. Surely, that means it must be over? 

“Look at you,” says Castiel admiringly, “You’re glowing with need and so…” He wraps a hand loosely around Dean’s cock, “so, very hard for me.” 

“Nghn” Dean wants to tell Castiel to fuck off and not to touch him… but the hand around his cock grips a little tighter and Dean’s stomach muscles flex and twitch as he tries to push his cock into Castiel’s hand further.

“So needy. Do you want to come, Dean? Can you say my name for me as you do?” asks Castiel conversationally. 

Dean nods, “Yeah… yeah… Please?”

Castiel’s eyes darken and he bites his bottom lip. If Dean really was ready… then he was going to make him come on his cock. He wanted to be inside Dean when he made him scream out his name. Castiel moves behind Dean and carefully tugs out the butt plug, letting it drop noisily to the floor - he’d clean that up later. He releases Dean’s cock from his grasp and puts his hands on Dean’s ass, spreading his cheeks open for him… 

Castiel rubs himself over Dean’s ass crack a few times, making the man groan, then he roughly pushes in his rock hard cock and frantically starts thrusting up into Dean, who moans out loudly. 

“Oh, fuck… fuck!” Dean’s crying out almost instantly, “I’m going to come, Castiel… Please, please? Let me? Castiel?” 

“You can come, Dean, just keep saying my name and I won’t stop.” Castiel says in a soothing tone, “You can do it…”

“Fuck! Y-yes… Castiel. Cas-Castiel… Ahhh, shit. CASTIEL!” Dean comes, harder than he has ever come in his whole life, screaming Castiel’s name. It’s almost like watching a fountain, spurts of thick white come pulse from the end of Dean’s throbbing red cock one after another. Castiel watches enthralled continuing to fuck up into him, growling out in pleasure at hearing Dean’s orgasm, his own follows quickly and he is suddenly groaning and filling Dean with his seed. 

Dean’s hips stutter as he sprays his come over the floor in front of him, there are tears streaming down his face and then… his head sags forward. His whole body goes limp. He passes out from exhaustion and Castiel smiles at him proudly, he unhooks the restraints and lifts Dean into his arms, carrying him back to his room, he lies him on the bed gently and lowers his lips to Dean’s, kissing him.

“You looked so beautiful as you came for me, as you called out **my** name.” He praised the unconscious man, “I think I’m finally getting through to you, aren’t I, my love?” 

Leaving Dean to sleep it off on the bed, ties back in place on his wrists, Castiel walks from the room with a big smile on his face. As he reaches the end of the corridor, he hears his phone ringing… Frowning he follows the sound to his room and crosses it to the bedside table. Castiel narrows his eyes at the ringing phone, he shakes his head annoyed and then picks up the phone lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Happy birthday brother, Sam's bringing you a surprise.” Click. The call cuts out, then he hears a long drawn out beeping noise. Castiel’s eyes flick up, staring straight ahead, his jaw locks. So Sam Winchester was looking for him…

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would I?"


	7. Don’t Look Back In Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLOT heavy chapter - A little look into why Castiel is, the way he is. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let the readers who are following this as it's being written know, that I have made some very minor changes to chapter one, as this story grew some things needed a little tweaking for it to fit more seamlessly together. However, these changes are literally only tiny and you shouldn't 'need' to go back and re-read if you don't want to. 
> 
> This note is just in case you notice something doesn't quite seem to fit, you know that I have (hopefully) gone back and edited that small bit for future readers. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting. The positive response to this story has kinda blown me away. Much Love =) <3

Sam Winchester has to die. 

And Castiel knows, he can't just go out and kill him, it had to be done in a way that wouldn’t lead back to him, if the police suspected him, they’d find Dean. They'd take him away. If the media suspected him, he couldn’t ever let Dean find out that Sam was gone. For if Dean ever did find out, eventually, he would discover that Castiel had been involved, he’d never love him then. He’d never forgive him. 

Castiel had thought it through several times, there was no other way. Sam would never stop looking for Dean and as long as Sam was alive, Dean would pine for him. Killing Sam was taking care of two problems at once. If Dean had no one else to go to, what reason would he have to leave? 

That was how it had been for him, that was how it would be for Dean.

***

“Hello?” Castiel sounded irritated, he notes. Probably because he hadn't been able to mold Dean into seeing things his way yet. 

Shaking his head, Balthazar delivers his warning. “Happy birthday brother, Sam's bringing you a surprise.” He pushes the button to end the call and runs a finger over his lip thoughtfully. Castiel would get the message, but would he do what needed to be done? 

Balthazar closes his eyes and sighs, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. Dean shouldn't have lasted this long anyway. He walks over to his cupboard, opening it and pulling out the silver metal case, placing it on the bed next to him, his fingers slide along the number lock to the correct combination and it clicks open. He narrows his eyes at his collection of guns and knives, counting and checking. Two small handguns and two pouches of bullets, three knives, zip ties, duct tape, and gloves. Prepared as always. 

He lifts his case and walks down the steps to the door, locking it behind him. He passes through his bar and motions to Meg to come over.

“I’m going out for the evening, you’re in charge.” 

“Sure thing boss.” says Meg, “Have a good one.” 

Balthazar smiles, “I will.”

He walked out the front doors of ‘The Lower Angel’ and out into the cool evening air, heading toward his car. He opens the trunk and places the case neatly in the center. Closing the trunk again, his thoughts carry him back to the night that he had Castiel bundled in the trunk of his car, bound and gagged and breathtakingly beautiful. Or... James as he had first introduced himself. 

Balthazar scoffs, 'James' would have just been another kill on his list, another pretty face to fuck and then peel the flesh off but when he’d looked at his driving license and he had seen that the man’s first name was Castiel… He’d realized, Castiel was an angel, just like him… And so his obsession had begun... 

He’d spent the next two years working on Castiel, beating him into submission, fucking him senseless, starving him into compliance, locking him up when he felt like it would have been better to just kill him. Castiel had resisted him for a long, long time. Balthazar had explained over and over that they were both angels, that that meant they belonged together, that he and Castiel would always be connected. That no one would ever feel about Castiel as strongly as he does. After a time, Castiel seemed to give in and accept that this was his life and that Balthazar’s word was final.

When Balthazar had once again felt the itch to kill, it was a pretty British man that had caught his eye. Mick Davis had walked into his pub and somehow Balthazar had been helpless to resist him, he had taken him home to share with Castiel and he'd been so proud, watching Castiel torture the man mercilessly, watching him fuck him roughly, watching him enjoy it, Balthazar had killed Mick and then he and Castiel had marked each other in his blood. 

Castiel’s mind had been broken that night. His old self had ceased to exist and he had been reborn and baptized in blood.

Balthazar began bringing home more men, every few months there would be a new 'hook-up' for them to defile and disembowel together. Once he'd gotten over the morality of it, Castiel was good at it. 

***

“I don’t understand?” Dean looked up at Castiel with worry in his eyes, “You’re leaving? But I did everything you asked me to do? Didn’t I? Did I do something wrong?” 

Castiel frowns, hating that he had to leave Dean alone after they had made so much progress today, “No, of course not. It’s not anything you did Dean, I assure you.” 

Disbelieving him Dean shakes his head, “No… you left me alone to punish me, now you’re leaving me alone again, so I must have done something wrong! Please, please don’t go?” 

Castiel sweeps across the room and cups Dean’s face in his hands, “Not at all. Dean, don’t think that. I’m not leaving to punish you, something has come up that requires my attention, that’s all.” 

Dean sags “How long are you leaving for?” 

“I don’t know… exactly. Hopefully no more than a few hours. Maybe a little longer, so you’re going to need to eat something and use the bathroom now.”

***

Closing the front door behind him, Castiel turns back and looks up to the window of Dean's room, something feels... off. Like he's about to lose Dean... everything. He shakes himself, forcing himself to focus, it was just because it was Dean's brother he was hunting. That's all. As long as he does this right, Dean will never know what happened. 

He gets in his car and pulls out of the driveway, heading into the city towards Balthazar's bar, 'The Lower Angel'. 

He'd been surprised that Balthazar had even given him a warning with the way things were between them at the moment. When Castiel had managed to convince Balthazar to let him go, he hadn't actually expected him to keep up his end of the deal. 

As he thinks back coldness washes over him... 

_"If you don't let me go... You'll never know if I'd come back... Don't you want to know if this is real?" _

_Balthazar frowned, "I don't want to let you go, I want you to be with me, I want us to do this... always. I want you in my bed everynight." _

_Castiel remembers thinking at that moment... that it was over. He'd never get a choice again... But Balthazar had looked at him, taken in the broken expression on his face and against all odds... He'd caved. _

_"You stay here. You live in my house, you come to my bar, my bar only... You can hunt there. I will move into the room above the bar, clean up after you. You can have three months." _

His first night of freedom, he'd met Dean. If that wasn't fate... Castiel didn't know what was. 


	8. If Looks Could Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s driving into the city, Balthazar’s driving out of it, both have murder on their mind… It’s not looking good for the Winchesters.

Castiel drives into the city. The rain is pelting down on the windscreen but in a way he is grateful for it, it’s as though it is washing away this night. Cleaning it from history with rain. He feels how different this hunt is, it’s Sam Winchester and Dean cares about him and he cares about Dean, even after the nightmare he has put Dean through, his feelings of desire for Dean are genuine.

The constant swiping sound of the windscreen wipers is his only companion, he doesn’t want to risk putting on the radio and losing focus. Not tonight. It’s far too important. Keeping his eyes sharp he turns on to the street of Balthazar’s bar. 

Thanks to the images on Dean’s phone, Castiel spots Sam’s Dodge Charger parked up outside the motel near The Lower Angel right away, carefully he parks his car in the space next to it. He waits for a few minutes to make sure that there is no one else about, before he gets out of his car, closing the door gently, quietly. 

Turning to lock his doors and drops his keys close to the front tire on Sam’s car. A quick side glance left and right confirms there is no one nearby and as he crouches down, his gloved hand dips into his pocket and pulls out his pocket knife. His other hand also gloved rests on the top of Sam's front tire. He leans over slightly and feels his way behind it for the brake line... 

***

His key slides easily into the lock, Balthazar flattens his hand against the door as he opens it to dull the sound. He steps over the threshold and breathes in deeply, the space around his is thick with Castiel’s scent, how he’d missed it. Closing the door silently he places his silver case on the floor gently, he wipes his wet boots against the doormat and shucks off his coat, hanging it on the coat stand. 

His eyes fall on the foreign leather jacket that has no place being hung up on his coat stand, no place in his house, he scowls at it. ‘Deans’. The strong leather smell suddenly seems to wash away the perfect coconut scent. Balthazar shakes his head and moves away from it, he stalks silently around his house, seeing more little pieces of evidence of ‘Dean’ as he does. 

When he reaches his room, he smiles, his bed is rumpled and his sheets are soaked in that coconut smell that he adores. Castiel kept his word about sleeping in his bed. The thought makes the possessive sleeping beast within him awaken and uncurl.

He picks up the pillow and brings it to his face, inhaling deeply, with his eyes closed in blissful completion. This building may be his house, but Castiel’s mind and body were his home. He sits on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hand over the warm indent in the middle. 

His eyes travel the room, Castiel’s clothes, Castiel’s slippers, Castiel’s glass of water on the bedside table, his lips touched that glass, far more recently than they touched any part of him. He reaches for the glass but stops as his eyes fall on the photo album next to it. He frowns, recognizing it as their photo book. Their collection of ‘beautiful things’. Had Castiel missed him so much that he’d been sleeping next to their book of trophies? 

His hand passes the glass of water, reaching instead for the photo album, his slender fingers wrap around the cover and pull it back to reveal the first photo. 

Everything stops. 

Instead of staring down upon the bloody, broken, and beautiful body of Mick Davis, Balthazar is confronted with an image of Castiel and Dean. It’s clearly a fake but Castiel must have made it, taken their pictures from this book and replaced them with Deans. 

‘He is replacing me with Dean’.

Balthazar flicks through the rest of the pages, moving faster and faster as Dean’s smug smiling face greets him again and again, taunting him. He tosses the book angrily into the center of the bed. Closing his eyes he focuses on controlling his rage, this isn’t Castiel’s fault, it’s his own. Clearly he had made a grievous mistake. Granting Castiel this ‘freedom’ after promising him that he, Balthazar would always be there for him. Castiel had clearly been testing his devotion and foolishly, he had given in to his request. He’d let Castiel go when he should have held him tighter.

Breathing deep, calming breaths Balthazar rises to his feet. The problem was worse than he’d feared and it reinforces his need to, once and for all, get rid of Dean Winchester.

As he walks slowly through his house, towards the front door, his mind fills with images of him and Castiel, his method of self-soothing the betrayal he’d felt as he flicked through the photo album. 

The way he’d felt when he’d first learned that Castiel was, like him, an angel. The look in the man’s eyes as Balthazar had taken him that first time, that unforgettable first time. Balthazar had pushed himself inside Castiel, body, and mind. He’d ravished him to within an inch of his life, beating him every time he’d dared utter the word ‘no’. 

He had tasted Castiel's sticky and sweet blood that had pooled from the shallow cuts he’d made, nothing would ever compare to Castiel. Nothing even came close to his holy taste. Balthazar had kept him tied and weakened for weeks, not allowing him to come. He’d brought him so close several times, with his fingers, with his mouth, with his cock… but he had always caught him right before he fell over that edge, he'd always held him back. 

Balthazar wouldn’t allow Castiel to feel that bliss until he was truly convinced that he would feel it in its entirety. When Castiel had finally been ready, Balthazar had showered him in affection, he’d bathed him, fed him, smoothed massaging oils into his bruise faded skin and then… He’d taken him on a journey up the highest mountain, a journey to sensuality, he’d brought him to that highest peak with his mouth and his fingers and then, finally, pushed him over that edge and into heaven on his throbbing cock. 

It had been biblical. 

He reached the front door and picked up his silver case, he turned back and began to walk with furious determination towards the spare room. He had work to do. 

His hand gripped the bedroom door handle and turned it slowly. He stood still in the doorway as the door, opening before him, revealed more and more of the bedroom behind it, Balthazar sneered at the minty scent that assaulted his nostrils. Dean was sleeping. His hands cuffed to the bed frame above him. He was completely naked, completely alone, completely helpless. Balthazar smiled at the feeling that it was as though Castiel had left Dean for him, gift wrapped in the most beautifully vulnerable way. 

He stepped into the room, his heart thudding in his chest as he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him...


	9. Looking At The Monster

Dean wakes suddenly with the immediate and unshakable feeling that something is wrong. His eyes are open but he is surrounded by an impenetrable black wall. Straining into the endless darkness, he feels his heart rate climb and his skin seems to tighten all over his body as thousands of goosebumps rise. 

He can sense someone moving around the room, a nightmarish presence that he may have thought of as ghostly if it wasn’t for the fact that it was all too solid. 

Past the rapid beating of his pulse in his ear, he hears something being placed on a table, something heavy. There is a sharp click and he concludes that the thing, whatever it is, has been opened. He concentrates and listens, trying to somehow throw his hearing to where he thinks the sounds are coming from. 

There is another sharp click, as the thing is closed. 

“Castiel?” Dean’s throat feels clogged with fear and he can barely get the word out. He knows instinctively that whoever is in the room with him, is not Castiel. Castiel’s presence doesn’t feel like this, maybe it had in the beginning, but not now. This felt like someone was playing the highest note of a violin and his nerves were the strings. 

Horrifyingly the bed suddenly dips and creaks under someone else's added weight. Dean feels long, cold fingers trace through the prickly hairs on his legs. His feeling of helplessness magnifies as the weight shifts closer, he can’t shrink away and hide, he can’t defend himself or move, he can’t even see who is crawling their fingers over his flesh.

Dean jolts and lets out a loud, sharp, piercing cry as a hand suddenly grabs his chin, pulling his mouth down and forcing some cold metal thing behind his teeth roughly, making him unable to close his mouth. 

Dean tries to shout out but the words are so slurred that even he can’t remember what they were meant to be. As he jerks his head, trying to dislodge the ring of metal in his mouth, he feels the weight of the other person on the bed shift. Legs climb over him and someone sits on his chest heavily as the string around the thing in his mouth tightens around the back of his head, holding it in place. His stomach knots as he feels four sharp prongs dig into his cheeks, like the metal legs of some disfigured spider.

The weight on top of him stills and single fingernail draws a tingling line down from his chin to his jugular. 

“I suppose I can see why he likes you, you are a fine specimen.” The man’s voice is brittle and unsympathetic, “but you will never be good enough for him, Dean. Castiel belongs to me.”

Dean hears the unmistakable sound of a zip opening. Desperately, he tries to close his mouth, he tries to shift the metal ring with his tongue, tracing it around the cool bar and pushing against it. As his tongue circles it, his mind takes in the size and shape. He shakes his head, powerfully, rapidly from side to side. Slurring out an unintelligible plea. 

The body on top of him moves, the weight leans forward. Dean splutters thickly and gasps as the winds crushed out of his lungs. 

An open hand smacks against his head, dizzying him, fingers lock into his hair and pull his head forward, making it even more difficult still to breathe. That is when he feels something hot and fleshy pass through that cool ring of metal and touch his tongue... 

***

Castiel clips the brake line of Sam Winchester’s car and quickly straightens up. He carefully tucks the pocket knife back into the inside of his coat. He gets back into his car and starts the engine, glancing once again at the vehicle parked next to his with uncertainty. 

Ignoring his doubts he reverses out of the parking space but he can’t bring himself to go back yet, he can’t face Dean yet. He drives across the street, parking outside of Balthazar’s bar, The Lower Angel. He heads into the bar, so distracted by worries that Dean would find out what he’d done that he doesn’t notice the tall man standing at the bar, he doesn’t hear him speaking to the waitress Meg, he doesn’t even recognize the address she gives him as his own… Well, it isn’t really. It’s Balthazar’s house. 

And it’s Balthazar that Sam Winchester is looking for now, after being unable to track down the mysterious ‘James’ the barman had mentioned, Sam had returned to The Lower Angel desperate for more information on the man who had left this very bar over a month ago with his older brother.

***

Balthazar pushes his hard cock deep down Dean’s throat, the man chokes on it, coughing and spluttering harshly. As Balthazar drags his dick back out, a string of saliva from Dean’s mouth connects it to the spider gag in his mouth. He wets himself with it and presses in again, pressing against the back of Dean’s throat over and over. 

Dean’s face is bright red under the blindfold that Balthazar had pushed over his head while he’d still been asleep. He makes ugly wet grunting sounds of panic and rage as Balthazar fucks into his mouth. Balthazar is ruthless in his actions, still gripping tightly on to a handful of Dean’s hair as he thrusts into his mouth over and over. He’d been without Castiel for almost five weeks and that frustration added to the blinding anger he felt towards the man beneath him made him merciless in his assault.

As he feels himself creeping towards the edge, his hand slides down the back of Dean’s head, over the blindfold to the ties that hold the spider gag in place, he hooks a finger underneath the cord there seconds before coming. Spurting hot, thick ropes of come into Dean’s mouth. 

Moving quickly he pulls the cord of the gag up and away from Dean’s face, the four mental ‘legs’ scratch across Dean’s cheeks as the ring in his mouth clacks against his teeth. Balthazar quickly tosses the spider gag aside and covers Dean’s mouth with his hand, pushing his head back against the pillow and he waits until Dean is forced to swallow down every last drop of his seed before removing his hand... and finally, Dean’s blindfold.

Coughing and gasping, Dean looks up through watery eyes, his lips are red and swollen, his hair is sticking up where Balthazar had been gripping it, there is still some come around his mouth that he is unable to wipe away, he meets Balthazar’s sickly twisted smile with equal measures of fear and rage...

“Who the fuck are you!?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen me before when you've glanced the devil in Castiel’s eyes…” Balthazar looks into Dean’s face menacingly, “That’s me... My name is Balthazar and you… Well, you seem a little upset Dean?”


	10. Look At My Creation

Sam smiled awkwardly at the waitress, “Thank you.” 

“No problem, gorgeous.” 

Escaping the predatory gaze of Meg, who seemed to be undressing Sam in her mind as he stood before her, Sam left the bar, pulling his coat collar up against the cold night air. He walked across the street, the rain was softly patting down on his car as he reached it. He opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, closing the car door he pushed the key into the ignition...

***

Balthazar doesn’t wait for Dean to answer him, he climbs down from the bed, he tucks himself back into his trousers and walks to the door, turning back to Dean as he reaches it, he smiles that same disturbing smile that chills Dean’s blood and sneers, “Don’t go away.” 

Balthazar leaves the room, taking his silver case with him, the minute's tick by, seeming to pass all too slowly and yet all too quickly at the same time. Dean spits the man’s taste from his mouth, his heart is still pounding in his chest when Balthazar returns, holding up a tiny silver key. Dean glares at him as he approaches. 

“Where’s Castiel?” asks Dean furiously. A part of him scolds himself, it’s not like Castiel has treated him any better than this man but even so Dean really wishes that Castiel was here now. Something about this man, the things he has said… Dean just knows instinctively, he is in serious danger. 

“You know what keeps people in line, Dean?" says Balthazar, ignoring Dean’s question "Fear.” he speaks slowly, almost conversationally, “Castiel fears me, so he obeys me… Foolishly I gave him a taste of his freedom back, just enough that that fear began to fade, unfortunately, hope blossomed in the space it had left within him. You, Dean, seemed to fill that space, but he still has fear, fear that you will leave him… And that is the reason why he left you cuffed to the bed.” 

Balthazar puts the key into the lock of the handcuff that is holding Dean’s left wrist to the bedframe the lock clicks open and Balthazar quickly grabs it and clips it over Dean’s right arm, cuffing his wrists together. 

“That is why he inflicts upon you my pain, you see... my pain is so great that I needed to share it with someone, needed too and now Castiel shares it with you. I can see that he has passed on some of that fear too, I can see it in your eyes, you don't _ want _ to die. This is good, Dean, really good... because I find much greater joy in taking the life of someone who wants to live.”

Dean's face pales and his brows knit together in confusion and fear. This can’t be happening. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not killing you just yet… There is something you need to see first.” Balthazar unlocks the other cuff at Dean’s wrist, letting it fall away from him and hang down uselessly from the bed. Grabbing the chains between Dean’s wrists, Balthazar hauls him up from the bed and onto his feet. Dean flinches at the pain as the cuffs are pulled tightly against his already raw wrists.

Balthazar drags him roughly from the room, with Dean stumbling behind along him, terrified. He leads him down the corridor, towards the door that Castiel had taken him through… Dean feels his fear spike, he’s being taken to the kill room, he tries to stop, he tries to turn back, to get away but Balthazar grabs the back of his head in an almost casual motion and slams his face into the wall. Dean sways on the spot, blood pours down his face from his nose and he sees blurred lights and flashing before his eyes as he tries to regain his balance.

This time, when the door to the kill room swings open with an eerie creaking sound, Dean sees that the table thing he’d been bent over before was moved to the side of the room and in its place was a single wooden chair. 

“Sit,” Balthazar commands, pushing Dean into the chair forcefully.

***

“James!” 

Startled Castiel pulls himself out of his thoughts and looks up into the concerned face of Meg, he offers her a weak smile, “Hello, Meg.” 

“Hey, sugar, you alright? You’re looking a bit pastier than usual there.” Meg leans over the table, wiping it down with a soapy smelling cloth.

“I’m fine,” he lies easily, he is so far away from fine, his thoughts are at war in his mind. He wants Dean, he wants all this craziness to stop, he wants to remember who he was before all of it started, he is sure that he wasn’t always like this, that the thought of taking a life wouldn’t be so easy for him. He’d just cut the brakes on a totally innocent man’s car, Sam could die… He is sure that once upon a time… He would have cared. 

Meg shrugs unconvinced, “You coming in tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” says Castiel, not like he has a choice after all. Balthazar would never allow Castiel to get a job anywhere else. He’d offered him shifts at his bar, he said it was so that Castiel could get out of the house a little, so that he wouldn’t get bored but Castiel knew that really it was to keep an eye on him, to keep him close by, even during his ‘freedom’ Balthazar was always there, holding Castiel’s metaphorical strings, playing him like a puppet. Always there, always watching, even when he wasn’t. 

Castiel’s eyes scan the bar, they pick out the door that leads up to Balthazar’s flat above the pub. 

“He’s not in,” offered Meg following his gaze.

“Oh?” Castiel was about to ask where Balthazar was, but then another thought struck him… Surely, this was an opportunity. The inside of the bar and the flat upstairs were the only places that Balthazar didn’t have cameras. Castiel knew that Balthazar had kept the possessions from his life before this nightmare had started, he’d searched the house and found nothing. They had to be here. If Castiel could get upstairs into Balthazar’s flat… Maybe he could find them… Maybe he could steal those things back. Then he could take Dean and leave… He could escape.

“I don’t suppose he brought the books down before he left?” asks Castiel keeping his voice as casual as he can. 

Meg pulls a face, “Don’t think so, why? Did he ask you to take a look at them tonight? It’s your night off, tell him to get stuffed.” She laughs, “You know he won’t fire you, he’d let you get away with murder.” 

Castiel looks at her with a brow raised, Meg rolls her eyes, "Well, they must be upstairs somewhere if you wanna go get them so bad…” 

Castiel nods, trying not to look too nervous? Excited? He stands up slowly, “Yes, I better get them. Needs to be done tonight.” _ Balthazar isn’t going to let me keep Dean forever and once Sam Winchester is dead, I _ ** _need_ ** _ to get away. I need to get _ ** _Dean _ ** _ away. _

***

Moving around Dean, Balthazar opens his case and takes out one of his guns. He walks over to the shelving by the wall and pulls back the plastic sheet, to reveal a projector. He switches it on and turns back to Dean. The first picture that Dean sees illuminated against the wall is Castiel, he is stood in a bar, a drink in his hand, smiling. 

“This was the first time I saw him.” says Balthazar looking at the image, “his beauty called to me, his name, his body… He and I are connected far more deeply than you and he could ever be…” 

Balthazar clicked a button on the projector and a new image flashed up. This time, it is a picture of Castiel bound and bloody in the trunk of a car. Dean turns from the image to Balthazar with parted lips, eyes wide, hands shaking. 

“I brought him here. I spent years shaping Castiel into the man he is today. The man who set himself upon you time after time. I was the one who nurtured each and every dark desire within him that he had tried so desperately to deny.” 

“Why are you showing me these?” asks Dean numbly. 

"So that you understand. These help me remember and I want to die with memories, not dreams... I want to know that I _ did, _not just desired to do things..."

“I understand that you’re a complete nutcase!” snaps Dean angrily. 

Balthazar narrows his eyes, his hand moves silently to the button on the projector and without taking his eyes off Dean, he presses it. Dean continues to glare at him, scared of what he might see when he turns to look at the image on the wall. Eventually, trembling, he turns his head and takes in the picture before him. 

He inhales a sharp breath of air and his head twitches as a shudder runs through him, as he turns back to Balthazar, the man holds up his hand, showing Dean a scar that goes across two fingers. 

“He never tried to bite me again,” said Balthazar calmly. Dean’s eyes travel from Balthazar’s hand back to the image of Castiel curled up on the floor, he is naked, his face and body is littered in bruising and he is clutching his mouth, from which a stream of blood is running and in that pool of red, lies a bloody molar.

Subconsciously, Dean smooths his tongue over his own teeth. Grimacing as he thinks how painful that must have been for Castiel. 

Dean hears a soft ‘click’ from behind him and the image changes again… 

***

Castiel steps into Balthazar’s flat, his breathing instantly shifting from calm to ragged, the bar smells of sweat and alcohol… but here everything was saturated in Balthazar’s sour smell. Castiel passed quickly through the small living room, opening a door and stepping into the darkened room beyond. He hastily flicked on a table lamp and jumped in surprise at his own face staring back at him in the mirror on the wall. His heart was in his mouth as he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. 

When his heartbeat wasn’t so painfully powerful in his chest he opened his eyes and pulled open the drawer next to the table. There he was again, staring back at himself but not in a mirror this time, this time he was looking down at dozens of pictures of himself. His shaking hand reached into the drawer and rose again to rest in front of his eyes, he blinked as he looked at his own tooth in his hand, clenching his jaw he looked back into the drawer. There were pictures, his driving license, a lock of his hair, the watch he’d been wearing the night he’d first stepped into The Lower Angel, he felt a wave of sadness wash over him. Here was a shrine to the man he used to be…

Castiel angrily swipes at the tears that had risen in his eyes, he shakes himself. Balthazar could be back at any moment, he can’t afford to waste time feeling sorry for himself. Hastily, he strides back to the kitchen, he roots through the cupboards and drawers until he finds a black bin bag, then he returns to the drawer and tosses everything into the bag, except his driving license which he pockets. He finds some cash by Balthazar’s bed and takes that too. 

He should have planned this better, he should have been prepared but he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He had to try and get Dean away. Balthazar would never allow Dean to live… 

***

Dean can see Balthazar’s hands gripped into Castiel’s hair, forcing his head into his crotch. Even from the strange angle of the photograph, he can see the blood on Castiel’s cheeks. Balthazar had forced himself into Castiel’s mouth, right after pulling the man’s tooth out. 

“You’re sick,” he says looking back at Balthazar. 

Balthazar ignores Dean, clicking the button again. 

Dean looks back at the wall, he feels his insides twist horribly as his eyes land on a new image. Castiel is chained to the bed, the same bed that Dean’s been cuffed to for weeks but unlike Dean, Castiel isn’t on the bed, but suspended above it by the tight chains. His face is a picture of pure agony, he’s naked and his mouth is red with dried blood. 

“He is so very beautiful,” says Balthazar softly, more to himself than Dean as his eyes seem to drink in the image with a soft fondness. 

The next image, makes Dean gag. It's clear that it was taken in the very room that Dean was sat in. Dean's eyes take it all in at once, his blood feels like ice traveling through his veins.

Balthazar is holding a gun just in the frame of the image. A gun that is pointing down at a distressed-looking Castiel. Castiel is bent over another man on the table thing, Castiel and the other man are both naked and Castiel’s cock is buried deep within his ass. Beneath Castiel, the man's hands are tied behind his back and his eyes are rolled back into his head. In Castiel’s hand, is a large, shiny knife.

"Mick Davis," says Balthazar, "A wonderful plaything and beautiful addition to my collection. Castiel made me so proud when he slid his blade across his throat." 

Unable to contain himself, Dean throws his head forward and vomits. He feels splatters of it hit his feet, hot and strong-smelling. He gasps and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth as he sits up again. Balthazar is smiling at him evilly. 

“Castiel changed for me, he grew, evolved. But, he changed again… when he met you. He was supposed to kill you, instead, he tore up the whole script and burnt the pages. I was… unimpressed to say the least but I love him, so I thought I’d be merciful, I thought I would let this play out, see how long it took him to get bored of you.” Balthazar clicked the projector again, the image vanished and the light on the machine flickered out, “But he didn’t get bored of you, did he? I watched, day by day as he grew fond of you, as you called out to him as you came, as you begged... as he relished it. That betrayal sinks deeply into my heart like a blade, you can’t imagine the pain... yet, but you will.” 

Balthazar steps closer to Dean, his eyes boring down into him with obvious dislike, “I proved to Castiel that he could do anything… apparently he took that to mean that he could try everything… He seems to be trying to be me but I am the only me and he, he belongs to me and that will never, ever stop, but this” Balthazar waves his hand at Dean, “will.”

Dean holds his breath, his heart is pounding, the hairs on his skin all stand up and prickle unpleasantly, his eyes dart past Balthazar to the door. 

"So, Dean. I have only one question for you..."

Dean meets Balthazar's darkened eyes, feeling his heart clench in a freezing vice grip. 

"If this is what I have done to Castiel... Whom I love... What do you think I am about to do, to you?" 


	11. Looking Closer

Castiel walks towards the door of Balthazar’s flat, ready to leave but then something catches his eye in the living room, he stops. Balthazar's laptop is on the coffee table, it's facing away from him but in the reflection on the rain-splattered window, he’d caught the image of something on the screen. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on what he was seeing... then his lips part in a silent gasp and his eyes widened. 

Moving quickly, he walks around the little coffee table and looks down at the screen. He recognizes the room instantly, he’d spent so much time there after all. ‘His’ room in Balthazar’s house, now Dean’s room… With the bed by the wall, the bed he’d left Dean cuffed to. The bed that was now… empty. 

As a breath rushes out of him, the whisper of the word flys through it and gets lost in the wind, "Dean?" 

His eyes flick to the corner of the screen, where a little red light indicates that this feed is live. He drops down onto the couch, his hand reaching for the laptop and moving the cursor to click on the other feeds that are coming from the house, the kitchen, empty, the hall, empty, his heart begins thudding in his chest, had Dean escaped? Had he left him? 

He clicks another link, searching the screen as Balthazar’s bedroom pops up... but no Dean. Castiel’s eyes home in on the photo album on the middle of the bed. That was not where he had left it. If Dean had managed to free himself… Why would he stick around long enough to look at it, to move it? 

As he moves the cursor to the button for the last link… He already fears it. He already knows it. He had called him about Sam, he had warned him… To get him out of the house. Castiel had always known that Balthazar was watching, some of the things he’d done to Dean… Some of those awful things, Castiel had done to keep Balthazar away… His finger hovers over the button to that the last link... 

‘You should have killed him’, that was what Balthazar had said the first time that Castiel had seen him after he’d taken Dean. He’d gone home, fearful that Balthazar would turn up and kill Dean. He’d gone home and tortured him to show Balthazar that he, Castiel was still his, that he didn’t need to kill Dean, he'd tortured Dean to buy them some time… 

His sickening words, his hellish actions… abusing Dean. All to save him and he couldn’t even tell Dean why… He hadn’t dared risk Balthazar hearing him comfort Dean. Castiel couldn’t have left before, Balthazar had pictures of Castiel killing for him, pictures of him raping Mick Davis… If Castiel had run away… He would have not only Balthazar looking for him, probably trying to kill him… He would have had the police after him too. He would have been running… for the rest of his life.

Taking a deep breath, he clicks the link and his eyes close in instant heartbreak.

Dean is in the kill room and Balthazar is circling him…

Opening his eyes again, Castiel picks up the laptop, the charging wire falls to the floor as Castiel strides to the door, his blood boiling with rage and protective instincts. He throws the door open and flys down the narrow staircase, crashing through the door into the pub below. 

He ignores Meg’s angry calls to him as he crosses the bar in seconds, vengeful purpose in each and every step. He hurries to his car, a glance across the road tells him that Sam Winchester had already returned to his car, the parking space where it had been stood, was now empty. He places the laptop on the passenger seat, still open with the feed of Dean and Balthazar playing out before him. He starts his car and it rips from its parking space noisily.

*** 

“I don’t know,” says Dean, “You gonna talk at me some more? You’re just a sick fuck who loves the sound of his own voice.” 

Balthazar’s nostrils flare, he steps closer to Dean, “What do you think Castiel is doing right now to your brother, Sam?”

Dean’s mouth drops open and Balthazar smiles, “Stay the hell away from my brother.” says Dean. 

Balthazar leans closer to Dean, “He is a pretty thing, isn’t he? Sam? Such wonderfully youthful pliant skin…”

Dean’s lips twitch as a shiver runs down his spine. 

"Much like you own skin,” Balthazar reaches out and strokes the back of his fingers down Dean’s cheek, “It’s lovely…” he adds as his eyes scan over Dean’s face, “I'm going to need to be very slow, very careful when I carve your face,” he runs a fingertip around Dean’s hairline and down past his ear to his neck, “from your head…” He straightens up and smiles at Dean pleasantly as he says, “I’m going to dry out your skin, Dean and wear you like a mask the next time I fuck Castiel."

***

Sam’s foot touches the brake pedal as a group of teens meander across the road ahead of him, luckily though they get out of the way before he has to slow down. He gives them a wide berth as he drives past, glancing back in his mirror before reaching to turn on his car’s radio.

*** 

Dean is frozen, not in the literal sense, but in the sense that his fear has reached the absolute limit, he can stand. He could move, but with the exception of his obvious trembling, he can’t… He could speak, but he can’t. He sits perfectly still, staring ahead, the smell of his own vomit and sweat fills his nostrils on each sharp breath in. The sounds of Balthazar moving around behind him, seem to crawl over his skin, moving from his left side to his right, as though his body is tracking Balthazar’s movements, ready to warn him if the man gets to close again. 

Tweezers (“For those pretty eyelashes of yours”), scalpel, scissors... 

Dean watches as Balthazar picks each item carefully from the shelving behind the sheet plastic and places them neatly on the metal wheely trolly next to him.

A sewing needle and thread, a screwdriver, a hammer, pliers, meat cleaver… a cheese grater and finally, the last item, a large black-handled kitchen knife. 

When you’ve reached the absolute limit of fear, when you’ve had all that your mind can handle without going insane, there is only one way to go… 

Dean’s eyes lift from the trolley to Balthazar’s face as he steps up in front of him, careful to avoid Dean’s puddle of sick on the floor… Balthazar has the scalpel in his hand and Dean swallows. He feels his toes twitching, moving, waking up. His hands curl into fists. His teeth clench, locking his jaw tight, Balthazar is leaning forwards right into his space… Dean can feel the mans breath ghost over his face, the scalpel closing in towards his face… 

***

Castiel is speeding along in his car, the laptop still open on the passenger seat but the image has frozen, the incoming storm must be interfering with the signal... 

***

Dean moves like lightning, his arms rise and he grabs Balthazar’s wrist, digging his fingernails in and twisting sharply until the scalpel falls from the man’s grip. Balthazar lets out a yelp of surprise, his eyes lighting up with shock. 

Dean holds on to Balthazar as he gets to his feet, bringing up a knee and slamming it into his side. Balthazar’s lets out an ‘oof’ and bends slightly forward, which is when Dean releases his wrist and gets his hands around his neck, the chain from his cuffs pressing into Balthazar’s throat and making him cough. Dean brings his face barely an inch from Balthazar’s, looking deeply into his eyes and pouring all his hatred into him through them… 

“You’re not an angel… You ass.” sneers Dean choking the man under his steadfast grip, “You’re just a man…”

Balthazar stops fighting, he drops from Dean’s hold to the floor heavily, his eyes closed. Dean stares at him for merely a second, before turning and running through the door. 

Balthazar’s eyes snap open in time to see Dean fleeing… He gets to his feet, tilts his head to either side of his neck until he hears that oh so satisfying ‘_ crack’ _he walks over to the trolley, his hands hover over the items there, lingering for a moment over the hammer before finally, landing on the knife. He picks it up, turning back to the door, he starts towards it, whispering to himself… 

“And so the hunt begins…” 

***

Dean runs down the hallway, he stops at the top of the stairs, looking about him for something, anything he can put on quickly… His heart seems to stop when he hears footsteps behind him, he turns back sharply. His eyes open wide as he sees Balthazar striding quickly towards him with a large knife in his hand and a sick smile on his face. 

He turns away, throwing himself down the stairs as fast as his legs can carry him.

“Run, run, run… as fast as you can, but I will catch you, for I am an angel… Not a man.” 

His heart is throbbing painfully inside him, his chest is rising and falling rapidly, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks around… Which way? The front door was right there… but what if it was locked? He turns the other way, sprinting forward down another short hallway. There are three doors, he tries the first handle he reaches, pulls the door open. Behind it, is a small closet, full of musty coats and shoes neatly stacked on a rack. 

“Shit,” Mutters Dean slamming the door shut again, he dashes to the next, catching a glimpse of Balthazar approaching as he turns, he pulls on the handle to the next door… 

It opens and Dean steps inside the darkness of the room and closes the door behind him, quickly fumbling for and feeling immense relief when he finds a lock, he locks it. Feeling himself take a breath for the first time since seeing Balthazar immerge from the kill room upstairs. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” 

Dean hears Balthazar through the door, he searches blindly for a switch on the wall. His fingers find a cord, he pulls it and the room bursts into view with the flicker of the light. 

Despite the urgency to escape, he stops, taking in the room around him… His eyes travel over the literal, hundreds of laminated photographs taped to the walls. Dozens of men… beaten, bloodied, naked… dead.

His gaze travels over their faces, the fear was still there. That had stayed with them even after they’d died…

In the center of the room, hanging from the ceiling was a shower, Dean notices that the ground is raised towards the sides of the room and there is a grid in the center of the floor. There is nothing he can use as a weapon, but he does grab the towel from the hanger on the back of the door, he wraps it around his elbow tightly and steps toward the small wet rooms window. 

“You are trying my patience.” 

Dean ignores Balthazar, placing his elbow against the glass, he closes his eyes and draws his arm back, just as a loud bang rattles the door, Balthazar is trying to kick the door in. Dean smashes his elbow through the glass, a shard cuts him shallowly near his shoulder but he doesn’t stop to think about it, barely registering the pain past the adrenaline pumping through him. 

The door rattles again under another powerful kick, then another, then another… Dean looks to see the hinges shake under the force. He quickly unwraps the towel from his elbow and lays it across some of the broken glass on the window frame before he climbs out, hissing as he cuts himself whilst he crawls through the narrow window. 

Just as he is pulling the towel away from the window, the door crashes open with a mightly bang. 

Dean’s eyes meet Balthazar’s, terrified. 

“When I get my hands on you… I’m going to cut my name into your skin, Dean Winchester. My name will be there with you as your body rots into the earth, my name will be there as the worms and the maggots and the beetles feast upon the flesh that Castiel desired so much.”

Dean doesn’t respond, he runs. He runs and he doesn’t stop to look back. He runs without knowing where he is or where he is going. He manages to keep hold of the towel, it whips out to his side as he hurries through the trees and deeper into the woods. 

He slips in some mud but regains his balance quickly by gripping on to a tree and pulling himself up, his lungs are burning, his feet are screaming in protest. He stopped and doubled over, gasping in deep gulps of air, he wraps the towel around his waist, knotting the two ends together tightly to hold it in place.

As he’d ran through the trees, thorns had scratched and cut up his ankles and legs, the scratches burnt and bled and the blood mixed with the rain on his legs, making them look like bloody waterfalls. 

Just as his eyes spotted a road through the trees, he heard an awful sing-song voice close behind him, 

"Deanie weenie, pudding, and pie

Kissed Castiel, made Balthazar cry

When Balthazar came out to play

Deanie weenie... ran away."

Dean turned back, to see Balthazar coming through the trees towards him. Dean steps backward and turns, running flat out for the road... 

***

“Stay tuned for the latest on traffic and weather after this…” Sam reaches for the dial of the radio, one hand on the steering wheel, ahead of him, two men come crashing through the trees and out into the middle of the road. In the split second, he has to react, his eyes pick out the fearsome expression of the man holding the knife up high… and then with gut-wrenching realization fall on the face of the other man, his foot slams onto the brake… 

But his car slams into Dean and the other man without slowing… Sam looks forward, shaking and stunned as his car begins to crush in toward him against the trunk of a large tree… and then… 

Blackness. 


	12. Looking Back

So, the ‘short-cut’ had been a complete shit show. From almost hitting a group of teenagers in the road to getting stuck behind a truck that looked as though it was ready to fall apart, Castiel’s nerves were fried. 

Finally, his car screeches to a halt outside the house. He sprints to the front door, up the stairs, down the hall, skidding to a halt in the open doorway to the kill room, he feels his heart as it rips in two at the sight of the empty chair in the middle of the room. 

His wide eyes scan over the room quickly, darting from side to side. 

There is no blood. He sees the metal trolley, the instruments on it are all still neat and clean… unused. Turning back out of the room, he walks down the corridor as his mind tries to work out what happened. 

Dean had been here. Balthazar had been here too... but there was no blood, if Balthazar had killed Dean, there would have been blood, surely? That must mean that Dean was alive somewhere, but where? He pushes the door to Dean’s room open half expecting, or rather hoping to see Dean cuffed to the bed, maybe Balthazar had hanged his mind, he’d made an exception for him, maybe he would for Dean too? But those hopes evaporated when he is met with an empty room. 

Fearful of what he might find, but desperate to find Dean, he urgently searches the house, finding the broken door to the wet room, the broken window inside it, the trail of blood leading away from the house. He walks back to the front door and round to the side of the house from where he follows the spots of blood and the footprints into the woods, weaving hurriedly through the trees. He sees a mark on the ground where it looks like someone slipped… and then he hears the sirens.

He slows down, walking carefully and moving branches out of his way, stepping over tree roots that were sticking out from the ground, getting closer and closer to the sounds of sirens. He stops suddenly when he spots the flashing lights through the trees and crouches down, watching. There is Sam Winchester’s car, the front smoking where it wrapped around the trunk of a tree. The windshield is cracked and a lower branch from the tree had gone through it into the car.

Paramedics were there, fitting a neck brace around the man’s throat and flashing tiny torches into his eyes. His seatbelt had been cut from him and he was very tentatively lifted from the vehicle and placed onto a stretcher.

Castiel’s eyes wandered over the scene, moving back up the road from where Sam’s car had crashed, there were more paramedics, gathered around something on the road. Castiel crept through the tree line, keeping out of sight. 

Castiel felt himself fill with icy distress as he realized who the paramedics were gathered around. Dean and Balthazar were both lay unconscious on the ground and Castiel could see clearly... there was blood now.

Balthazar’s legs were pointed out at odd angles, the bones could be seen protruding through his bloody and tattered trousers and his knife was cutting into his own flesh. His face was pale from blood loss. 

Dean’s face was red. Red with blood from the wound hidden in his hair. His chest was scraped from where his body hit the ground. His wrists were still cuffed together, the skin beneath them had been peeled raw where they had rubbed. The towel that had been wrapped around him was now being bagged up and a silver sheet had been laid over his body to keep him warm. His neck, like Sam’s, was fitted with a brace.

Feeling nauseous, Castiel stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor. His mind was racing, panic, fear, confusion, rage… 

He had to leave, he couldn’t go to Dean. He had to return to the house, he had to clean away all the evidence that he had ever been there… He had to run. 

***

**Two Days Later**

Castiel’s sitting awkwardly in the front seat of his car, looking through the photo album of him and Dean. His fingers trace around the outline of Dean’s smile softly. Castiel sighs and looks out of his car window, the sun is just starting to rise and again, he has barely slept. How could he sleep whilst not knowing if Dean is alive or dead? 

Or Balthazar for that matter. 

What if he had survived and named him as an accomplice? As far as he knew, only Dean and Balthazar naming him would lead the police to him. He’d returned to the house, he’d removed his clothes, the photo album. He’d changed the bedding on the bed he’d been sleeping in, taking the used sheets with him. He’d wiped down the surfaces he knew was most likely to give away evidence of his presence. He’d destroyed Balthazar’s laptop. He’d done the best he could as quickly as he could and then, he’d gotten into his car and driven away.

The house is Balthazar’s, the bar where Dean had gone missing… is Balthazar’s. It had been Balthazar that had been chasing Dean with a knife. Sam’s car brake line had been cut whilst it had been parked across the road from Balthazar’s bar. 

Castiel turned on the radio, he’d been checking it every hour, for news of the accident, each time it was mentioned they seemed to have a bit more information, never the names of those involved but stories were forming and Castiel could fill in the gaps that other listeners could only speculate about. 

_ “Collapsed lung caused by a penetrating injury…” _

_ “Ha! In other words, the guy with the knife, who was chasing and by the sounds of it trying to kill the other guy… landed on his own blade when the car hit them. Kinda poetic really.” _

_ “Yeah, but what is sad is that the man driving the car is the relative of the guy who’d been missing. He had been looking for him when he ran into them. The police haven’t arrested him for dangerous driving though, it’s looking like his car had been tampered with…” _

_ “So, the victim goes into a bar, gets taken and held for about a month in some crazy guys house, which is bad enough… but then when he finally manages to escape he gets run over by his own family and now…? Do we know if he’s going to recover?” _

Castiel stared at the radio with bated breath. Not knowing what he is hoping to hear, if Dean wakes up, he’d surely give him up to the police… If Dean died... 

_ “All we know is that he hasn’t woken up yet, no statement has been taken from him about his abduction. Hopefully, he’ll come around soon. We do know that his relative and the attacker are both awake as of last night and the attacker is being guarded by officers around the clock.” _

Castiel stares at the radio in shocked silence. Balthazar is alive. 

He feels a shudder journey down his spine and through his body. He taps the steering wheel of his car, thinking. Turning the key the car comes to life. Checking the car's clock again, Castiel wonders humorlessly what time visiting hours start at the hospital.

***

Creating a distraction had been surprisingly easy, Castiel had been very lucky, in that there had been a football match on locally between two rival teams. Michigan Wolverines and Army Black Knights fans were well known for their dislike of each other. Whenever the two teams played there was sure to be fighting amongst the fans, Castiel had waited all day and until the match was over, he’d watched the hospital from across the street, waiting for the drunken football fans to turn up, then he’d casually followed them in and began stirring the hate between them all until a brawl of around thirty fans had broken out.

Hospital security had rushed in… and so, just as Castiel had hoped, had the police officer guarding the room that Balthazar was being kept in. He’d moved quickly down the corridor, away from the shouting of the fight. He reached the door to Balthazar’s room and took a deep calming breath before pushing down on the handle and stepping inside. 

Balthazar is awake. He looks up from behind his oxygen mask with surprise in his eyes. 

“I’m really glad you’re awake,” says Castiel softly as he steps closer to the hospital bed. His eyes travel over Balthazar’s broken body, the casts on his legs, the wires and beeping machines, the oxygen mask over his face. He sees that Balthazar has a handcuff on each wrist holding his arms to either side of the bed, “I thought you were dead...” 

Balthazar shakes his head weakly and watches Castiel’s approach with soft eyes and a small smile. He tries to speak, but his throat is dry and the mask over his mouth makes the groaned words sound fuzzy and unrecognizable.

Castiel shushes him gently, “I know that you tried to kill Dean. I know what you did to him, I saw the bedroom afterward and I know you thought that getting rid of him would somehow seal me to you forever… but it doesn’t matter why you did what you did. What matters is…that you failed.” 

Balthazar’s smile slips and he frowns as Castiel leans over him, whispering quickly, “Dean’s alive. He’s going to make it, you didn’t stop him, you can’t control him, or me...” Castiel shakes one of Balthazar’s handcuffs against the bed, “You can’t do anything and the only reason I haven’t done this sooner is that I was deciding how quick to make it, you’ll never know how lucky you are that Dean survived.” 

“It’s over, Balthazar. You’re over, finished and I want you to see me, to look into my eyes as I tell you... that I **hate** you with every fiber of my being. I want you to hear it in your heart and in your mind that you were never anything more than a monster who stole my soul and threw me into darkness, even after everything that you made me do, I will survive this. My life will go on…” 

Castiel leans over the bed and takes the oxygen mask from Balthazar’s face, resting it against his neck. He glances back to the door quickly and then his voice drops to a chilling whisper and Balthazar’s eyes widen with each word.

“It’s likely that I will spend the rest of my life behind bars, for what I’ve done to Dean…” Castiel lifts his hands, bringing one to rest over Balthazar’s mouth pressing down firmly and he grips the man’s nose with the other, as Balthazar’s eyes seem to pop with panic and his arms pull uselessly against the cuffs holding them to the bed frame, Castiel smiles and speaks quieter still, though his voice is still laced with loathing, “but you? You’re going to hell, right now.”

The look in Balthazar’s frantic face will stay with Castiel forever. He holds his hands over the man’s face for a few moments after his hands drop limply to his sides and when he finally, lifts them Balthazar’s lips are parted in a gasp. His eyes remain open, his body absolutely still, the color in his skin fading already, right before Castiel’s eyes. 

The relief Castiel feels is immense, the monster, finally put down. Out of his life, forever. 

Castiel turns Balthazar’s head to the side, placing the oxygen mask so that it looks like it may have moved in the man’s sleep and he quickly leaves the room. He checks up and down the corridor for signs that anyone had noticed him and moves further down the hallway, further away from where the fight had broken out earlier.

A name scribbled on a whiteboard catches his eye, ‘Winchester’. He knows he should leave, he should get far away, but the room number is right there, and he craves to see Dean more than he desires his own freedom… Making the decision he heads not for the exit… but toward that room… 

***

Castiel closes his eyes as he pushes the door open, this might be the last time he ever sees Dean and a part of him knows that really, he should eliminate the threat to himself… But could he really bring himself to kill Dean? 

Castiel opens his eyes and looks up, straight into the confused face of not Dean, but Sam Winchester. 

“I’m James,” he says instantly plastering on an ingenuine, concerned smile. 

On the one hand… Dean hadn’t woken up and Sam was in a small way like a living, conscious piece of the man Castiel desired. On the other hand… Sam Winchester is the only person who now stands in his way of having Dean all to himself…

Castiel hears the soft click of the door behind him closing and he steps into the room towards Sam. 


	13. Finally, Looking Forward

Three Weeks Later. 

A medical examiner had determined that Balthazar’s death had been a result of his injuries. His house and the bar had been searched by police, where evidence of no fewer than twelve murders had been found. A crime scene investigating team had gone in and taken photographs and samples.

Castiel James Novak had been questioned by police, as had The Lower Angel’s waitress, Meg Masters. 

Castiel had explained his relationship with Balthazar to the police in detail, he told them how he had worked for him at the bar, that he had spent a few nights at the man’s house when the weather was cold as he was homeless but that he had left when Balthazar’s behavior had become... concerning. He explained to police how he’d been living in his car and working odd shifts at The Lower Angel for the past two years as a means to survive. He had weaved a story to the police that he couldn’t have gone back to his family home because they weren’t accepting of his sexuality. 

He'd told them of the night he'd met Dean, how the two of them had been in Balthazar's bar and how they'd hit it off... and how Balthazar had seemed jealous of Castiel's interest in Dean. 

Balthazar’s will determined that in the event of his death, his bar and his home would go to Castiel and Meg. He had no family to contest this and Castiel was now at the start of a lengthy legal process of getting his and Meg's inheritance. Meg had chosen that she would keep the bar and take over as the new owner and Castiel would get the house, which he planned to sell as soon as possible. 

*** 

Castiel shifted in his seat, these hard plastic hospital chairs made his bum go numb, they were very uncomfortable. His eyes flick over to Dean on his soft bed, his face was so peaceful, the bruises and cuts had faded and healed and it looked as though he was just sleeping, well in a way he was. Castiel leans closer to Dean, taking hold of his hand in his own. 

“You know… I was attracted to you the very first moment I saw you, I desired you instantly… I loved you, from the moment I said no and you started to walk away… I wanted to say no, I wanted to spare you but I couldn’t. Not with **him **always watching, I had no choice...” Castiel hangs his head in shame, “But then I went and took that choice from you, didn’t I?” He shakes his head, squeezing Dean’s hand “I’m sorry for that, Dean.” 

Dean doesn’t respond and Castiel smiles softly at him before turning his attention back to the hospital rooms small television set as the door to the room opened. 

“Hi, James,” 

Castiel looks up as Sam Winchester hobbles into the room on his crutches, “Hello Sam. How are you feeling today?” 

“Getting there,” says Sam, then he nods down to his crutches and says, “Just a bit slower than usual.” 

Internally he rolls his eyes, but outwardly Castiel smiles back at him, “I want to thank you again for allowing me permission to visit Dean.”

Sam struggles into a second hospital chair, placing his crutches down on the ground beside him, “It’s alright, it’s good that Dean has another visitor, it’s good he hears your voice…” 

“We didn’t know each other all that well… I just can’t help but feel some responsibility for everything… I worked for Balthazar, but I never expected that he’d…”

“There was nothing you could have done, James. If anything you’re lucky you got out of that house after he ‘let’ you stay there.” 

Castiel nods solemnly, “That’s true I suppose.” 

“And I'm sure Dean will be very glad to see you when he wakes up,” says Sam attempting to lighten the mood and shake Balthazar from his thoughts. 

Castiel laughs softly, the story he’d spun for Sam had been pretty genius given that he’d made it up on the spot. He’d walked into Sam’s room, all those weeks ago and introduced himself. Stating that he’d been looking for Balthazar, his boss who he’d heard had been in an accident… but once he’d got to the hospital, he’d heard whispers of awful things, of things Balthazar had done. He explained to Sam that he and Dean had met about a month ago, at Balthazar’s bar and had hit it off… arranging to meet for coffee the next day… Dean had never shown.

“I’m not even thinking about **that**,” lied Castiel, of course, he was thinking about being with Dean, he thought about it every minute of every day. He missed Dean’s warm skin beneath his hands, he missed the feel of their cocks sliding together in slick heat, he missed hearing Dean call out his name, missed hearing him beg for him. He wanted that back and he was willing to wait to get it, “I just felt like I wanted to help in any way I could.”

“You have helped.” 

Castiel smiles to himself and they both go back to watching the old cartoons that are playing on the television in silence. 

***

_ He don't take no time to play, _

_ Time to play, _

_ Time to play, _

_ All he does is work all day, _

_ ~ _

_ You can play and laugh and fiddle, _

_ Don't think you can make me sore, _

_ I'll be safe and you'll be sorry, _

_ When the wolf comes to your door... _

Dean's eye’s flicker open, blinking against the strong bright light. His vision blurred for a moment before picking out the television set that is mounted on the wall ahead of him, there is a cartoon playing and the song had roused Dean from his long sleep. 

His brain feels fuzzy, his eyes feel warm and oddly dry so he blinks several times. His fingers twitch on the bed, he gently curls his toes, his eyes move around the room, taking things in. He can tell that he is in hospital, his body is stiff, and there is a tube going into his nose and down his throat. Dean touches the tubing with his tongue, it’s uncomfortable and he grunts as his tongue pokes it against his throat. 

“Dean?” 

Sam is up from his seat and hopping over to Dean’s bed the instant he hears his brother, he sits carefully on the edge of the bed next to him and Castiel’s watches him embrace Dean tightly in a long hug. Then Dean pats his brothers back and Sam steps back. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and his heart pounds in his chest as a single second seems to stretch out into a thousand years while he waits for the inevitable - fear, shouting, panic, police… bars. 

But it doesn’t come… and Castiel blinks through his confusion as Dean looks away from him and back to Sam and says, “Who’s your friend?”

Castiel’s whole body practically sags with relief and it's taken as a sign of disappointment by Sam and gives him a sympathetic look before responding to Dean, “Dean, this is James. You met him almost two months ago, don’t you remember?” 

“Two months?” Dean looks at Castiel’s face again, frowning, “I don’t remember... anything.”

***

Castiel had excused himself to fetch a Doctor and to allow himself a private moment to relish his good fortune. Dean was awake and he'd met his eyes, not with fear but confusion... confusion was something that Castiel could work with. 

Castiel and Sam had spoken to the Doctor while the nurses helped Dean, taking out his nasogastric tubes and checking his vitals. 

"We're going to send him for a CT scan." the Doctor had told them. 

"He's alright though, right?" asks Sam, "The fact he's woken up... He's going to be alright?" 

"It's looking very positive but we'll know more when we have the results of the scan," says the Doctor smiling at Castiel and Sam. 

Castiel watches through narrowed eyes as Sam squeezes Dean's hand before he is wheeled away to X-ray. 

While they wait, Castiel tries to tune out Sams excited and irritating chattering next to him, he needs to think. He needs to know exactly what Dean does or doesn't remember. 

"I can't believe he is awake, I mean, I knew that he had to wake up eventually, you know? Dean couldn't... Well, you know. But now that it's finally happening, I'll admit it, I was scared." Sam glances at Castiel's face, frowned with thoughtful lines, he reaches over and pats his knee, causing Castiel to jump and look up into Sam's face, "Sorry..." says Sam, "Didn't mean to make you jump, you ok though? You seem a bit... Oh, are you worried because he didn't remember you... Don't worry, he will. I'm sure it's normal, coma patients must get a bit confused when they first wake up." 

Castiel blinks at that, what if Dean did start to remember him... Maybe he could sneak him out of the hospital? But then where would he take him? The police would no doubt check Balthazar's house since that belonged to him now... No, he couldn't do that... Maybe, he could threaten Dean that if he said anything, he'd kill Sam? 

But then he'd be arrested and Dean would slip through his fingers once more... No, he'd just have to wait, keep playing his part as though nothing was wrong...

*** 

The next few hours were torture. What if Dean had already remembered him and the police were on their way, right now?

Castiel paced the small waiting room as he waited. Sam had gone to get coffee and Castiel was glad of the moment alone, to think and breathe. He notices through the window of the door that Sam is back and talking to Dean's doctor, Castiel opens the door slightly and listens as the doctor explains... 

“Dean has suffered trauma to the base of his skull which has led to damage in the hippocampus region, causing retrograde amnesia. This has heavily affected his explicit memory.” 

“His explicit memory?” Sam looks at the doctor with eyes full of concern, “What does that mean?” 

“It means that he remembers who he is, things that happened in his childhood, you, he remembers how to do things like, ride a bike, use the internet… but not the things that happened before the accident. It’s possible that some of that is selective, that his brain is too overwhelmed to cope with whatever psychological trauma he endured and that he is blocking those memories from himself as a safeguard to save himself from the distress that they would cause, if that is the case he may get them back, however, we can’t be sure that that is what is really going on here and even if it is... there is no guarantee that those memories will ever return.” 

_ 'There is no guarantee that those memories will ever return' _Castiel's brain seems to short circuit for a moment. He was being given a gift, a fresh start with Dean, with no Balthazar, a second chance at a first impression... He strains to keep hearing the doctors words.

“There are cognitive therapies that have been used in helping people regain memories they’ve lost, your brother may want to look into that if and when he feels ready…” The doctor looks away for a moment, then he looks back at Sam with a disturbed look on his face, “In your brothers case though, I’m not sure that is something that I would advise, he’s lost the last few months of his memory, he doesn’t remember being taken or anything that happened to him while he was being held… I made the collection of forensic evidence in your brothers case myself, your brother's abuse was physical in both that it was violent and sexual… That may not be something he wishes to remember.”

***

The next few weeks are slow and tedious. Sam doesn’t leave Castiel alone with Dean, so he never gets a chance to talk to him on his own. After learning what had happened to him, Dean decided that recovering his lost memories, was not a priority and he refuses to speak to a therapist about anything more than learning to accept that he has lost time. The therapist warns Dean that over time, his subconscious may begin to unlock what happened to him in the form of dreams… or rather nightmares. 

When after another couple of weeks, Sam goes back to work, Castiel continues to visit Dean during the day, working shifts at the bar at night under Megs new management. He visits Dean every day, even though Dean doesn’t remember meeting him, he is happy that he comes to see him. He hates feeling alone and always feels a rush of grateful relief when ‘James’ pokes his head around the door. 

Dean warms up to him even further when Castiel begins sneaking things into the hospital for him, usually non-hospital-standard food, such as slices of pie. Castiel brings him newspapers and they fill in the puzzles together, he brings playing cards and lets Dean win most of the time, acting ‘cute’ sulky when he loses. He helps Dean with his physiotherapy each day, holding on to Dean’s hand with personal relish as Dean regains his strength and walks slowly up and down the hospital corridor. 

Dean talks a lot about where he remembers up to, but Castiel always tries to steer the conversation backward to try and avoid stumbling on something that may unlock Dean’s memories. His stomach is a mess of knots each and every time he walks up to the hospital doors, will Dean have remembered him? Will there be police waiting… There never is though and two months after he woke up, Dean is discharged.

Castiel is glad to be done with the hospital, too busy and crowded… But, Dean is moving in with his brother and that doesn’t sit well with Castiel, not that he says anything to Dean, of course, and Sam does allow Castiel to visit - which is fine he supposes… But it’s not enough. So one day, Castiel approaches Sam...

"Would you mind if, I mean..." he scratches the back of his neck nervously, "Would it be alright with you, if I asked Dean out, do you think?" 

Sam looked taken aback, “Oh… er, well I had hoped that you would have waited a little longer but… I guess really the only person who knows how much time he needs… Is Dean.”

Castiel tilts his head, “So, yes?” 

Sam chuckles, “Sure, but if he says no…” 

“I know,” says Castiel, “I’ll deal with it.” Castiel is sure that his version of ‘dealing with it’ and Sam’s were likely to be very different, but he couldn’t help that. What happened next would be up to Dean. 

Castiel arranged to meet Dean for coffee, he was nervous, even though he was willing to take Dean again if it came to it... he really just wanted Dean to want him. So when he shyly asked Dean, he was trembling slightly and Dean gave him the warmest smile, reaching over to place his hand on top of Castiel’s as he nodded and very softly ‘yes’. 

Something about how Dean wants him, makes Castiel’s insides squirm with possessive need and he has to tamper down the desire to just throw Dean in the back of his car and drive away with him. 

They start out slow and steady, which is both a frustration and a wonder. Castiel gets to really know Dean, without him being scared or angry. Dean is funny and kind and even more perfect than Castiel had realized before. As his obsession for Dean grows, his patience for the lack of physical contact begins to wear thin. He needs to touch him, to kiss him… to taste him.

***

It was a couple of months after Castiel and Dean started dating that Castiel finally managed to sell Balthazar’s house. He used the money to get a small one-bedroom flat and finally got to ask Dean round to his for a date night. He cooked a beautiful meal and they drank a bottle of wine together. Castiel felt like he was flying, Dean was here, with him… by choice. It wasn’t forced. This time, Dean was with him because he wanted to be. The feeling expanding in Castiel’s chest like a balloon being blown up, his happiness filled him but even with that amazing feeling… Castiel wanted more. He wanted all of Dean, he wanted to get Dean into bed. 

After the meal, Dean agreed to stay over as he’d drank too much to be able to drive… and if that had been Castiel’s plan, well who needed to know? Castiel had helped Dean strip down to his boxers and then guided him to his bed, he kissed his way all over Dean’s body, watching with heat in his eyes as Dean’s cock stiffened before him. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says in a gravelly tone as he meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean shakes his head, “I want that too, but… not yet. We can do something else, is that ok?” 

Castiel bites back his irritation and smiles, “Of course. May I taste you then, Dean?” 

Dean nods and then watches with awe as Castiel wrapped his lips around him, he works the base of Dean’s dick with his hand as his tongue and lips caress the head. He works Dean to climax and then jerks himself off over the man’s stomach, marking his skin with his own sticky come. 

Castiel flops down on the bed and grins wide at Dean, “That was really nice…” He says as his breathing returns to normal. It was nice, but it hadn’t killed his desire to fuck Dean, he wanted to be inside him, he wanted to feel that hot tightness on his cock and push into it, over and over. He wanted to make Dean his again, by marking his insides with his come. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love you,” says Dean smiling at him from the other side of the bed. 

Castiel feels those words float through the air towards him and merge into his skin, filling his heart to bursting point, he smiles back at Dean and says, “Well, it’s a good thing because I know I love you, Dean. I have for a while, so hearing you say that… You have no idea what it means to me.” 

***

From then on Castiel instigated things with Dean every few days, trying to build up Dean’s trust in him and his sexual appetite. Whilst they were out to dinner one afternoon, Castiel mentions to Dean that maybe they could try having sex, if Dean felt ready for it, of course. Dean frowns down into his pie thinking, when he looks up, ready to tell Castiel that he isn’t sure if he can do that yet, the look on Castiel’s face is so hopeful that Dean just gives him a small smile and nods. 

Later that night though, he isn’t sure he made the right decision and doubts start to creep in...

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Dean says not meeting Castiel’s eyes. 

Castiel disguises the annoyance on his face before it breaks the surface and walks up to Dean cupping his face in his hands, he finds and holds his gaze, “Of course you can, Dean. It’s been six months, you’re ready. You know I wouldn’t even ask if I wasn’t sure that you were ready… You can do this. You don’t want to let that man ruin the rest of our lives, do you? I just… I want to make you feel good, can I make you feel good Dean, please?” 

Dean nods, swallowing his nerves down. He could do this, for James, “Alright.” 

Castiel smiles at him, he leans forward and softly presses his lips to Deans. After a moment, his tongue pokes at Dean’s mouth, demanding entry. Dean parts his lips and lets out a soft moan as Castiel slides his tongue over his own. 

Castiel kisses Dean hungrily, relishing in the feel of Dean kissing him back. They’ve kissed, a fair bit now and Castiel has blown Dean a few times and Dean had jerked him off on occasion, but Castiel wanted more now, needed more… His patience had worn out, he needed to bury himself deep within Dean again and reclaim him. 

Gently, Castiel pushes Dean back onto the bed and begins pulling his clothing off, he removes Deans shoes and socks, his pants, his t-shirt and finally, his underwear. He climbs up and straddles Dean, leaning over him to kiss his neck. He licks and sucks at his skin. His own cock, throbs in his pants. Sitting back on his heals he pulls his own t-shirt over his head. 

Dean is lying beneath him, looking up at him with his lips parted and his hands-on Castiel’s hips. Dean’s breathing is already a little ragged and Castiel isn’t sure if it is from arousal or nerves, all he knows is that it makes his dick twitch and his heart pound. 

Castiel does take the time to open Dean up, working three well-lubed fingers inside him, whilst also sucking Dean's hard cock to keep him distracted and needy… 

A few minutes later, a condom is rolled down Castiel’s shaft and his cock pokes at Dean’s entrance…

“James…” Dean’s voice is laced with fear that he is clearly trying to control. 

Castiel feels himself on the edge of rejection and pushes in quickly, “Ahh-”. 

Dean flinches at the sudden stretch, hissing slightly. Castiel ignores him though, Dean might not remember but Castiel does, he knows exactly how much Dean can take and this is nothing even close to it. Castiel praises Dean as he moves above him, drinking in Dean’s contorted expression each time he thrusts forward and groaning wildly at the feel of Dean’s tightness surrounding him. 

“Ah, s-slow down.” Mumbles Dean, his face is red and his hands are gripping desperately into the bedsheets, “James? Slow down.” 

Castiel pushes in harder, “I can’t, Dean… Ah-h fuck. I’m going to come.” 

“Please, slow down?” Dean pleads with his eyes squeezed shut. 

Castiel’s skin is slapping roughly against Deans as he fucks into him over and over with reckless abandon, “You can take it, Dean, you can. You’re doing so well… I’m nearly-- there…. Ahhhh shit.” Castiel pushes forward one last time, he is so deep inside Dean, buried completely and that’s when he comes, grunting and dripping sweat, wishing there was no condom between them.

Castiel pulls out and tugs at Dean’s side to get him to roll over, then he buries his face in Dean’s crotch, sucking his cock greedily until Dean comes with a shout, his hips jerk upwards and the head of his dick hits the back of Castiel’s throat. Castiel swallows and then pulls his mouth from Dean’s dick and leans over him, kissing his way up his chest, “You’re so fucking perfect, Dean. That was amazing.”

Castiel falls asleep that night with an arm wrapped around Dean, holding him close. Dean lies awake for a while, a feeling of unease refusing to let him drift off. He slips free from Castiel’s grip and treads quietly downstairs to call his brother. 

***

The next morning, Castiel comes into the bedroom with a tray of bacon and pancakes. He slams them down on the bedside table. Dean jolts awake and stares at him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Dean, what did you tell Sam about us spending the night together?” 

“I… er” Dean’s mind races back to his phone call with Sam the night before.

“Did you tell him that I forced you?” Castiel’s expression is one of heartbreak and Dean hurries to reassure him. 

“No! No, I said that I wasn’t sure if it was to soon, I didn’t mean to imply that you…”

“Well, that’s what it felt like he was implying, he said if I loved you I could wait…” Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, “I do love you Dean and I have waited but I want to help you, to help us… We’re together now and I thought I was helping us move forward, you know? I just wanted to show you that what happened to you doesn’t have to hold you back. It’s ok to enjoy sex with your boyfriend, it’s not wrong to want it… If you truly felt like it was to soon, perhaps, I should go…” 

“No! Don’t leave, it wasn’t too soon, I’m sorry. I guess it was just because it was the first time since... I felt a little weird about it, about it… but not you.” 

Castiel’s expression softens, “I understand, Dean. Really I do, and it will get easier, I promise. I just hope that things of an intimate nature that happen between us from now on, will stay between us? I don’t like feeling like I’m in a three-person relationship, with you and your brother, ok sweetheart?”

"Sure, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come across like that..." said Dean

"Well, Sam can be quite possessive, I'm sure he just took what you were saying the wrong way and then maybe I overreacted. Sorry, Dean. I just... sometimes I feel like Sam maybe holds you back? I want us to keep moving forward... In fact, there was something I wanted to ask you... although maybe now isn't the right time." 

Dean frowns at Castiel's words, "You think Sam's possessive of me?" 

"Hmm? Well, maybe overprotective rather than possessive. You know I really like Sam but he does act a bit more like he's your father than your younger brother, do you know what I mean? Like, he is always checking up on you. You aren't a child Dean, you're a grown man and capable of making your own choices." 

Dean blinks, "Yeah..." he says slowly, he is a grown man. He can decide things for himself. Why had he rung his brother last night, if he was unsure of something to do with him and James... the person he should have been speaking to about it was James. Right? "What were you going to ask me?" 

Castiel turns to look at Dean, frowning slightly as though worried what Dean might say, he swallows and smiles softly, "I thought... maybe you could move in with me?" 

“Oh, er…” Dean’s expression was full of shock and Castiel could feel it coming before Dean even said it… “I’ll talk to Sam about it.” 

_ ‘So much for making your own choices’ _thinks Castiel nodding to Dean, but narrowing his eyes menacingly as Dean turns away.

*** 

One Year Later. 

It was a year since the ‘incident’, Dean had moved in with Castiel a few weeks after it had happened. After Castiel had insisted that it would help Dean’s nightmares if he wasn’t alone. He cooked Dean’s meals for him, he bought most of Dean’s clothes for him, he lay next to Dean at night with an arm wrapped around him, holding him tightly to his chest. Sometimes Dean would wake up to Castiel watching him and Castiel would always tell Dean that he’d been having a bad dream and that he was watching over him. That he was there for him and Dean would curl into him. Castiel would make slow savory love to Dean and tell him how perfect he was, how beautiful and strong he was. 

***

Today, Castiel had helped Dean bathe, he’d helped him into his suit, straightening his tie for him and telling him how handsome he looked. 

Dean looked at Castiel sadly, "James, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here." 

“Don’t worry, Dean,” says Castiel, his eyes darken as he slips an arm around Dean and squeezes him tightly, “I will always be here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean wipes bitter tears from his eyes as he turns into Castiel’s embrace, clinging to the man as though the earth was opening up beneath him and Castiel was his lifeline. He sniffs deeply and then pulls back from Castiel giving him a watery smile. 

“It’s just so… stupid. After everything we went through, he survived that car wreck… Just to fall down the stairs? I know this is going to sound absolutely fucking stupid… but it’s not fair. I miss him. I feel like… it’s me, ya know? I’m fucking cursed.” 

Castiel gives Dean a sad smile, “Life can be so cruel sometimes but you aren’t cursed Dean and you’re so strong, we will get through this, together. You and me. He wouldn’t want you to give up on your happiness, he’d want you to keep going.”

“I know he would, you’re right. It’s just… he was my brother. I was meant to look after him…” 

“As I am meant to look after you, come on, Dean… Let’s get you home, out of the cold.” Castiel says quietly taking Dean’s hand in his own. Dean nods and the pair begin to walk hand in hand back to the parked Impala nearby. Castiel sending an eerie smile over his shoulder as he glances back to the gravestone that was beautifully engraved with the words...

‘In Loving Memory Of Sam Winchester. Brother and Friend’

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand in his own and turned to look forward, into a future with him and Dean… With only him and Dean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO. We made it! So much for 'it's only a one-shot' hahaa. I just want to thank everyone who has been reading along and leaving such amazing comments. They really do help to keep the motivation going! Love to you all!!! <3 
> 
> Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf (Sing-Along Songs)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShE27Hst_NM


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